


Remedy

by yodasyoyo



Series: Fall Right Back to You [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demonic Possession, Derek Feels, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Past Sexual Abuse, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Scenting, Witches, canon AU, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4513563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodasyoyo/pseuds/yodasyoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>****COMPLETE! This is the sequel to Clarity so you will need to read that one first to appreciate this!****</p><p>This whole series is a post 3b canon au. I haven't watched season 4 onwards yet. The series as a whole is angsty but it does have a happy ending!</p><p>In Clarity Stiles accidentally absorbed Derek's psyche into his own mind and then fell for him. </p><p>In this one now Derek is back in his own body, he comes to terms with his own past, and with his feelings for Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nothing was wrong, but everything was wrong.

It had been a month since he had woken up in Deaton's clinic. A month of fruitlessly searching for this damn demon, Legion. 

Nothing.

Everything in Beacon Hills seemed normal.

Too normal.

As far as Derek was concerned, normal was _abnormal_ in Beacon Hills.

It was as if the demon had just disappeared into thin air. Scott and Deaton were on the verge of giving up the hunt for it, but Derek knew better then that. These things didn't just disappear, they waited patiently in the shadows to blindside you on an idle Thursday afternoon. They ripped your still beating heart right out of you, and left you bloody and gasping on the sidewalk, while everyone around you carried right on living their normal, happy lives.

He couldn't relax, he had to be prepared. He was convinced they needed to research, needed to plan, but nobody seemed that bothered about it. The thing had owned a powerful urn that had somehow transferred Derek's psyche into Stiles mind and it had taken over a week to separate them. It had attacked Stiles, (and Derek in Stiles body), and yet since then... nothing. No more attacks, but no progress in finding it either. It just didn't sit right with him. He hated feeling so ignorant about a potential threat. It was so much easier when an enemy was physically standing there, getting in his face feral and bloody. At least he knew where he stood with that. He could sense it, smell it, track it and fight it. Demons were something else, whether they were the supernatural kind, or the kind that you made for yourself and carried with you, created out of poor judgement, guilt and regret.

No, he wouldn't be able to relax until this demon was safely out of the way.

There was a knock at the door to his loft and he sighed, rising to his feet.

Stiles.

He knew by the tell-tale trip of Stiles' heartbeat.

In actual fact everything was hyper-normal _except_ for Stiles. Stiles was being- odd. It was nothing major, just little things Derek had noticed since regaining consciousness a month ago. Stiles had always been prickly around Derek, argumentative and highly strung. Now there was a subtle change to it though and he couldn't really place what it was. Stiles was still jittery, in the way only he could be, but now it was less angry and more nervous.

Then there were the visits...

Since the incident with the urn Stiles had been making a habit of coming over to the loft, ostensibly just to socialize. Stiles had never seemed to feel the need to make friends with him before, and he wasn't quite sure _why_ he felt the need now. Derek suspected Stiles was checking up on him, although he couldn't think why he would want to. Maybe it was guilt for touching the urn, absorbing his psyche and effectively putting Derek in a coma for over a week. Maybe Stiles was lonely. God knew Scott was busy enough being the Alpha, and Stiles didn't seem to have a huge number of friends.

Every now and then though, he would catch Stiles looking at him expectant, and almost hungry, as if he was waiting on Derek for something. In those moments Derek knew that there was something Stiles wasn't saying, and he wasn't saying it loudly. At other times the scent of arousal bloomed around Stiles, but he was still seventeen and so pretty much perpetually horny. Derek couldn't be sure who or what was on his mind in those moments, so he chose to politely ignore it.

Stiles knocked again, more loudly, and Derek moved across and opened the door, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Stiles stared at him with wide amber eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey Derek.”

Derek stepped to one side reluctantly, to let him in. “Hey.”

“I just thought I'd drop by.” 

“Any particular reason?” Derek asked quirking an eyebrow. He could take a good guess judging from previous impromptu 'visits.' They nearly always ended up watching a movie together.

Stiles grinned widely. “The pleasure of your company isn't enough?” He bustled in through the door and unhooked his back pack from his shoulder. “I brought us a DVD over.” He waved a box under Derek's nose, “And popcorn!”

“I might be going out.” He hadn't been, but he felt like he should point the fact out. He wasn't sure he should be encouraging this... whatever it was.

“Are you?”

“I could be,” Derek responded blandly.

“I'm sorry. I bet you had this time earmarked for skulking in dark corners and practicing your broody brows.” 

Derek looked at him trying, not for the first time, to work out what he was missing here. Four weeks a go there would have been an edge to that comment, like Stiles was angry with him or resentful in some way. Now though, it was almost... affectionate. No malice behind it at all.

“Actually I prefer to practice that in the bathroom mirror.” Derek dead-panned. “The lights better. I can make sure I'm getting the angst levels just right.”

Stiles let out a surprised bark of laughter, and Derek could smell a bitter-sweet scent rising up, it was mostly happiness but there's a sour note to it. He breathed in a little, trying to place it. Regret maybe? Or disappointment. He just couldn't make sense of _why_ that would be.

Stiles powered up his laptop and put the DVD into it. He threw the popcorn across at Derek who caught it easily and opened it, tipping it into a bowl. He picked it up and also grabbed the mug of coffee he had been drinking, and brought them over to join Stiles on the couch.

“You know,” Stiles pointed out, conversationally, “if you got a better internet connection, we could stream movies on my laptop and I wouldn't need to bring DVD's. In fact, if you got a better lap top we could stream movies on _your_ laptop and I could stop bringing my one over at all.”

“Or you could just stop coming over,” Derek muttered, going against his better judgement and settling himself down comfortably next to Stiles. He reached into the bowl and scarfed down a handful of popcorn.

“I could, but then who would makes sure that you stayed properly socialized and up to date on popular culture, Derek? I'm providing a public service.” Stiles reached in to grab a handful of popcorn at the same time as Derek, and their hands grazed. Stiles stuffed his mouth full of popcorn and then busied himself clicking through the DVD menu. The tips of his ears were pink.

“What film is it?” Derek asked, by way of changing the subject.

“Kingsman. I've seen it already, it's pretty good.” Stiles said, selecting play.

The film was good, kind of like an old style Bond movie, but lewder and sharper. Derek found himself sinking into the couch cushions, relaxed. He and Stiles leaned against each other as the couch sunk in the middle under their combined weight, their shoulders nudged together.

Occasionally he caught Stiles looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but he always turned back to the film before Derek could parse his expression. At those times, that bittersweet, almost happy scent, that was becoming all too familiar, bruised the air around them. Mostly though, Stiles commented on the film and Derek found himself joining in. When they laughed, they laughed together. Some of the action sequences were amazing and Stiles was almost vibrating with excitement waiting to point out his favorite parts to Derek.

It was... nice.

He hadn't realized how much he had missed having company until Stiles had started doing this, he hadn't felt this relaxed and unguarded around someone, hadn't realized how lonely he'd been. He hadn't had anything like this in ages.

Not since New York.

Not since Laura.

That thought made him uncomfortable.

He couldn't  _afford_ to have this, not really. People he befriended tended not to last too long. It was invariably better for everyone if he kept his distance.

Laura wouldn't have agreed with that. She wanted him to be settled. She wanted him to have friends.

Her opinion didn't really matter now though, because she was dead, killed by her own uncle. An uncle that had been tipped over the edge into insanity, because Kate Argent had managed to manipulate Derek, had used his infatuation with her to burn his home and family to ash.

The credits started to roll, and Stiles twisted round on the couch so that he could see Derek better. “So?”

“So... what?” Derek asked, jarred out of his melancholy.

“So, what did you think?” Stiles replied rolling his eyes.

Derek shrugged, feigning indifference. “It was okay.”

“Okay?! Okay?!” Stiles leaned forward animatedly. “That's all you can say? That's one of the best films I've seen in ages. How can you even?” He started to list all the film's merits, and Derek drifted a little. Stiles was all passion, nervous energy and wild gesticulation. He had to catch Stiles' wrist as his hand flailed a little too close to his face. Stiles stopped talking and stared across at him with huge brown eyes, the beginnings of a blush high on his cheeks. If Derek didn't know better he'd guess that Stiles was... that Stiles _liked_ him. It seemed implausible though, ridiculous even. Stiles had always treated him with indifference verging on disdain.

“The film was okay, Stiles," Derek said firmly. “I don't need a play by play, I just watched it with you, remember?” He released Stiles' wrist, and Stiles made a big show out of rubbing it. It couldn't be sore, Derek knew he hadn't gripped it _that_ hard, but he still felt a sran of guilt. He was all too aware of how fragile Stiles was.

“ _Some_ people like to talk about a film after they've watched it,” Stiles grumbled.

“I'm not _some_ people," Derek responded, getting up from the couch and moving into the kitchen. He felt confined suddenly, and needed space. What did Stiles want from this? What was he expecting?

“Got that right," Stiles muttered under his breath, just at the edge of Derek's hearing.

It was true though. Derek wasn't  _some_ people. He never would be, however much he wished he were. It's not like he wouldn't enjoy sitting here with Stiles, arguing the merits and flaws of the film. Stiles was nothing if not a good conversationalist, intelligent and witty as fuck when he wanted to be. They could so easily be friends, they so nearly were. Laura would say he should go for it.

Laura.

The thought of her made him grip on to the mug he'd been holding too hard and the handle crunched and crumbled. He swore softly.

The universe had taught him two harsh lessons. One, if ever he found a woman attractive there was probably a good chance she would turn out to be evil. Two, when he allowed himself to show that he cared about someone, they would most likely end up dead. It was why he hadn't followed Cora back to South America. It might seem superstitious but he knew, he just _knew_ that if he got too close to her something bad would happen. He was better off playing it cool, keeping his distance, and not letting anyone see how much he cared.

He _could_ be friends with Stiles, could fall into that so easily. It wouldn't be safe for Stiles though, and he knew it. He knew it in his marrow. He liked Stiles, he didn't want to see him hurt, and people got hurt around him. He didn't mean them too, but just like the mug they crack and crumble into dust when he tried to hold on to them. His shoulders tensed as he carefully put the broken mug down.

He took a deep breath and braced himself for what he was about to do.

“You should go now,” he said abruptly.

Stiles looked up at him in confusion. “Why, have you got somewhere you need to be?”

“No." He shrugged. "It's my house though, and I want you to leave.” He held on to the kitchen counter white-knuckled, his back to Stiles.

“I don't have to talk about the film if it's annoying you,” Stiles said, plaintively, “We can do something else.”

Derek released his death grip on the counter, and started to fill up the kettle with studied casualness . “It's not the _film_ that's annoying me,” he bit out with carefully considered cruelty.

There was a sharp intake of breath and he heard Stiles get up off the couch.

Good. Derek thought.

Go.

It'll be safer for you if you're angry with me.

Safer if you stop trying to be friends with me, or whatever the hell you think this is.

There was no anger from Stiles though. No slam of the door. Just quiet footsteps behind him and when Derek turned he found that Stiles was standing behind him in the kitchen looking at him, his arms folded across his chest in quiet judgement.

“I told you to leave," Derek snarled. He could hear Stiles heartbeat going crazy, but outwardly he stood his ground. He didn't smell of fear either. He smelled- sad.

“Why are you doing this?” Stiles asked. “Don't get me wrong, I'll leave, it's your house, and all that jazz, but just tell me, why are you pretending I'm annoying you? Why are you pushing me away? I had fun this evening Derek, and I think you did too.”

The questions demonstrated such perception that Derek was momentarily speechless. “I'm not pretending.” he lied . “You _do_ annoy me. You're just an annoying kid, and I don't have to hang out with you. I don't want to be your _friend_ , or whatever you _think_ is going on here.”

Stiles fixed him with a piercing look, and Derek felt like his soul was being stripped bare. He had never felt so vulnerable in front of Stiles before. Not even when he had been possessed by the Nogitsune.

“Okay.” Stiles said simply. No drama. No fuss, just... resigned. “If that's what you want.” He turned on his heel and packed up his laptop. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder. “See you Derek, but you should know, I'm always about if you need me.” With that he was gone.

The door shut quietly behind him and Derek felt unexpectedly bereft. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Stiles was supposed to argue, he always argued, he fought back. He should have been here for at least another hour fighting his corner, and berating Derek for his rudeness. Something was just... not right.

The kettle boiled and he carefully poured water into a clean, unbroken mug.

He should be grateful. Stiles left. That's what he wanted. That's what's best. He should be _pleased_.

He should be, but he isn't.

 

o0o

  

Derek didn't see Stiles again for a couple of days, not until Scott called a pack meeting and they all piled around to Derek's loft. Stiles breezed in, and sat down directly across from him. If he had any issues with the way things ended when he was last,  it's not obvious to Derek.  Kira, Lydia and Malia had already arrived. Scott arrived last, as he had to come directly from a shift at the veterinary clinic. Stiles didn't bring up the other day and Derek was happy to let it slide. They can see each other like this, they have to for the sake of the pack, but hopefully there will be an end to the social calls now.

The pack all sat around chatting aimlessly for a while, drinking Coke and complaining about school. Derek felt more comfortable with this then one on one, it was easier to hide in a big group of people. He didn't want to say much, was happy not to be the center of attention. Instead he just sat and let their conversation wash over him. He caught Stiles glancing at him sometimes though, Stiles probably thought he was being subtle about it. Subtlety has never really been his wheelhouse though. Derek chose to ignore the furtive glances. Instead he topped up everyone's drinks grabbed a large bag of cheetos and filled the same bowl that had been used for the popcorn just two days ago.

It was Lydia who finally focused them all. “If you have something important you want to discuss, then can we get on with it?” Derek had always appreciated her directness.

“Why? Hot date?” Stiles joked.

Lydia rolled her eyes but didn't deign to answer him.

Scott cleared his throat and looked around. He was still growing into the role of Alpha. In an emergency his natural leadership abilities rose to the fore, but like this, surrounded by his peers he still seemed a little lost at times, just ever so slightly out of his comfort zone. Derek understood that. He felt that way pretty much the entire time he was Alpha. All that power was tantalizing but the crushing weight of responsibility that came with it, that had been stifling. In many ways it was a relief not to have it any more.

“So,” Scott said “I just thought we should meet up and update you all on where we are with this Legion thing and share any other news we have.” He looked round at all of them hopefully. They all stared back expectantly. Scott continued. “First off some good news, I've spoken to Deaton and to the Sheriff. There don't seem to have been any more incidents from the demon, Legion, which is good. Deaton says it's probably a sign that it's moved on. Which is great news.”

Stiles looked confused. “So what, we're just going to stop looking for it? As long as it's not in our backyard it's not our problem. Is that what your saying?” He looked unhappy and Derek couldn't blame him.

“We have no idea of how to track it, no idea how to fight it if we find it.” Scott countered. “The only way we ever had of knowing about it was the people going missing on the preserve and they couldn't tell us much. Nobody has gone missing since it attacked you. Until we have evidence that's it back we should focus more on our individual training and control. Also there are a couple of incidents the Sheriff has asked us to look into to check for supernatural..."

“But that's a shitty idea Scott.” Stiles said interrupting. “This demon was dangerous, we should be researching, gathering as much information as we can so that _when_ it comes back we are prepared to take it down.”

Scott looked put out. “Research it how? There was hardly anything in the Argent's bestiary and it's disappeared off the face of the planet, where exactly do you intend to get your information from? I just don't see it Stiles.”

“But...” Stiles began

“Even if you find something out and we discover it's half away across the country or across the border into Mexico what are you going to do? Follow it? We can't police the whole world, we've just got to focus on Beacon Hills. Legion is not a priority any more.” Scott said firmly.

“But!”

“NO.” there was just a hint of the alpha about that no. Derek was shocked, it was so unlike Scott to use that on pack, let alone on Stiles. Stiles recoiled a little and everybody else exchanged glances. “I've made my decision Stiles.” Scott said firmly.

Stiles looked nonplussed. “O-okay.” He said quietly. “If that's what you think.”

It was uncharacteristic for both of them. Stiles always pushed. Scott was always patient. He had never seen Scott lose his temper and he had never seen Stiles back down meekly. Scott segued easily into the next topic, and things were fairly perfunctory after that. They caught up with each other, shared information about a couple of things that had been going on. Nothing that really stood out . Everything _normal_. It made Derek's nose itch.Stiles withdrew into himself, arms crossed, eyes downcast, he hardly contributed anything else to the discussion and perhaps because of that the meeting ended fairly swiftly. Before Derek knew it most of the pack were getting ready to leave.

Stiles though, wandered out to use the bathroom and when he returned everyone else had gone.

Derek waited by the door to the loft to let him out but Stiles hung back looking awkward.

“Hey Derek, can I just... speak to you a minute.” he seemed on edge, a sour note of anxiety clung to his scent.

Derek's heart sank. He wasn't sure what this was about, but he really didn't want a heart to heart about the previous day. “I don't know Stiles. I just...”

“Not about what happened the other day.” Stiles said dismissively, preempting his concerns. “It's about the demon, Legion.”

“Oh. Okay.” he felt relieved and yet somehow disappointed.

“Scott's wrong.” Stiles said abruptly.

Derek quirked an eyebrow. “Wrong?”

“Yes.” Stiles said resolutely. “Absolutely wrong. I've been telling him for a month that we need to be more proactive about Legion. At first he seemed keen enough, but now he's not listening to me.”

“He's the Alpha, he doesn't have to listen to you.” Derek countered, knowing as he said it that it wasn't an argument Stiles would accept.

“He's Scott.” Stiles retorted, “he _should_ be listening to me. Even if he doesn't agree with me, he's always let me argue my case. That's what made him a good Alpha. Now, any time I bring it up he just shuts me down.” Stiles smelled unhappy, “What do you think?” he looked up at Derek with large brown eyes.

Derek's heart stuttered in his chest. “A-about what?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “About the demon. Legion. You can't tell me you think it's a good idea to just ignore it.”

Derek looked away, he didn't want to have this conversation, not with Stiles. “No.” He said finally. “It's not a good idea.”

Stiles face split into a relieved smile. “Right? I knew you'd have my back.” he walked back into Derek's loft and sprawled inelegantly on to the couch.

Derek followed him reluctantly and gave a derisive snort. “I don't have your back Stiles. Scott's the alpha. He's made the call.”

“Yes. The _wrong_ call.” Stiles said looking up in frustration. “You and I both _know_ it's the wrong call.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Derek asked.

“Speak to Scott.” Stiles said. “He might listen to you.”

“If he's not listened to you he won't be listening to any of us.” Derek responded evenly and there was no way Stiles could dispute the truth of that. If there was one person Scott would be likely to listen to in the pack, it would be Stiles. No question.

Stiles let his head thud back against the couch cushions and sighed. “Help _me_ then. Help me research. Off the record. That way, _when_ this thing comes back at least we won't be caught off guard.” Stiles looked up at him again and pleaded. “Please Derek, I know you say I'm annoying you or whatever, but I also know you want to do the right thing. _We_ should do the right thing. _Together_.”

“You want to sneak around behind Scott's back?” Derek questioned. He was torn. On the one hand he had promised himself he would step away from Stiles, reduce the amount of contact he had with him. On the other here Stiles was, offering the exact thing he had been wanting to have, a chance to know more about this demon. A chance to prepare for when the supernatural crap of destiny hit the fan of Beacon Hills and everyone got shit in their eye.

“No. Of course not. I want to be able to include him in at and discuss it to his face, he's not allowing that to happen though.” Stiles said tartly. “Tonight wasn't the first time he's shut me down like that it's been happening for a little while.”

Derek tapped his fingers absent-mindedly against the door, conflicted. “Okay.” He said finally. “I'll help you research.”

“Yeah you will!” Stiles grinned at him, wide and genuine. “We should probably keep it on the down low though.”

“You think?!” Derek snorted but he couldn't help smiling back. Stiles grin was infectious.

Stiles sat up on the couch, suddenly all business. “ Okay, so I'll speak to my Dad, see if he can check out whether there has been any activity anywhere else like we were seeing in Beacon Hills, people going missing and appearing a day later with no memories and whatever .” He gestured airily. “That way if the demons moved on we might be able to work out where it's gone. Also Chris Argent probably knows more then he's telling. He _always_ does. You're kind of buddies with him now aren't you? Could you speak to him and try and see if he knows any more?”

Derek raised a brow. “Buddies?” It's not a word he would've used to describe that particular relationship.

“Well, okay, not buddies but not enemies either, right? Also, I don't-” Stiles paused and looked down, misery suddenly wafting off him in waves. “I just don't know if I can face seeing him, not since Allison...” He trailed off awkwardly.

Derek felt a rush of sympathy for him. That feeling of helpless guilt, the dread of seeing someone, when you felt responsible for so much of their loss. That he could relate to, he had lived through it with Laura every day after the fire, and now Cora. He even still felt pangs of it around Peter of all people. Without thinking he reached out a hand and put it on Stiles shoulder. “What happened to Allison wasn't your fault.” He said softly. “Chris knows that. The Nogitsune wasn't you.”

“I know.” Stiles said simply. “I do know that, you've al-” he stopped himself. “I've already made my peace about that, talked it through with a good friend. I'm just not sure I'm ready to face Chris yet.”

Derek nodded withdrawing his hand. “Fair enough. I'll speak to Chris, see what he knows.”

Stiles smiled at him in relief. “Thanks Man. You're the best.”

Derek raised an eyebrow “What about Deaton, he might have some information he could give us.”

Stiles made a face. “I think we'll have to leave Deaton out of the loop, at least for now. He and Scott are too close, but Deaton has had me in contact with the Grove in Seattle for my Spark training. I'll contact them and see if they have any info. I have a mentor there, Ginny, and she's very anxious to give me any information I need, I bet she'd help out with this. Plus they have a lot of resources, like, A LOT. They have a whole library on the occult which they are in the process of digitising so it can be uploaded to a cloud and can be used more easily. It's going to be awesome. Plus there is an actual journal which I have now subscribed to...” He paused and checked himself. “Anyway, you don't need to know all of that.”

Derek smirked. “You've never let that stop you before.”

“Jackass.” Stiles retorted fondly. “Okay so shall we text each other if we discover any new information?”

Derek shrugged. “If you want.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming me.” Stiles said dryly.

“Fine I'll text, if I hear anything from Chris.” Derek said rolling his eyes.

“Do you need me to show you how? I'm not convinced you know how to send a text. I've never received one from you before.” Stiles teased.

“I can text. If there's something worth texting about.” Derek responded snidely.

Stiles laughed. “Well aren't you just an actual ray of fucking sunshine.” Stiles said grabbing his bag and bouncing out of the loft like an oversized puppy. “Good-bye Derek.” He smelled happier. That bitter-sweet scent almost completely gone. Derek smiled after him.

“Good-bye Stiles.” he said softly, firmly closing the door.

It's only once he'd gone that Derek realized how abjectly his plan to distance himself from Stiles has failed.

 

o0o

 

Derek tried calling Chris straight away, but his phone went straight to voice mail. The following evening he drove over to the Argent house to see if he could make contact with him face to face. The lights were off and nobody was there. In fact it didn't smell if anyone had been there for a little while. Derek sighed, nothing could ever be simple.

He called Chris again as he stood outside the house and this time he left him a voice mail, he texted him as well just to feel that he was being thorough. His phone buzzed as he was getting back in his car and he grabbed it looking to see if it was Chris. Instead it was Stiles asking if we would come over to take a look at the stuff the Grove had sent over for him. Derek jumped straight in his car and drove round to Stiles house.

When he pulled up Stiles was already waiting at the front door to let him in, positively vibrating with excitement.

“Hey!” Stiles said. “So, I've been taking a little look at it, but there's so much to go through I could do with a bit of help. I've printed up some stuff for you to have a look at. If that's all right?”

“Sure.” Derek said as he followed Stiles up the stairs to his bedroom. It looked like a filing cabinet had exploded in the middle of it, there was paper everywhere. Stiles gestured for him to take a seat in a spare chair.

He grabbed a stack of paper from his desk. “I've printed out all the stuff the Grove have sent me on demons. It's kind of complicated. There's stuff here from all different cultures and traditions and not a lot of rhyme or reason to it. It's going to take a lot of work to sift through it.”

Derek sat stiffly in a desk chair that Stiles pointed at. It was the same chair he had been sitting in when Stiles had tried to pimp him out to Danny a life time ago. He glanced down at the paper work. “Stiles, some of this isn't even in English.” He said feeling a surge of frustration.

“I know, sorry I just started printing stuff off without realizing how much there was or how broad a range of stuff it covered. Some of it's in Aramaic some in Greek and Egyptian, there's even a section in Old Gutnish which is one of the languages of Norse mythology. Every culture has their demons and legends of demons.”

“Well I don't speak any of them so what are we supposed to do?” Derek asked in irritation.

“There is some stuff that has been translated into English. I think it's...” he leaned over Derek's shoulder and shuffled through the papers. “Here. If you start going through this stuff and see if you can find anything. I'm going to see if I can find anything that will help us translate these pages on Google. Ginny did recommend a few websites that might be able to help.” He moved over to his desk and sat down. “I'm going to start with some of the stuff that is Aramaic because we already know that Legion was referenced in the Bible. So it makes sense to check other sources from that era.”

Derek sorted through the paperwork finding any pages written in English or with English translations and set the rest of the stuff neatly on the floor. It was arduous work.

Stiles was right, most world cultures had references to demons as part of their mythology, however translating things to English from ancient languages didn't seem to be an exact science, the sentence phrasing and structure was often awkward and trying to find information about one demon seemed like an impossible task.

It had been almost three hours of working together in companionable silence, broken only by Stiles muttering under his breath and Derek was almost ready to give up. The language was so complicated, so vague. What were the odds that they would find one demon by name and it's not even like it was a proper name...

Shit. That was it wasn't it.

“Stiles.” He said. “I've had an idea.”

Stiles whipped his head round and rolled back on his chair, swiveling it to face Derek. “Whatcha got?”

“I've been looking for anything that specifically mentions Legion by name.” Derek said shuffling through the papers. “But, then I suddenly thought. We're going about this all wrong.”

“How do you mean.” Stiles said, confused.

“We're thinking of Legion as it's name, but what if it's not.” Stiles looked at him expectantly. Derek continued. “What did that quote in the bestiary say? Something about being Legion for they are many.”

“So?”

“So, what if Legion is not the name. Or what if it's not _only_ the name.”

Stiles looked at him blankly. “Maybe my Adderall is wearing off because I'm just not getting what you mean.”

“Think Stiles. Legion is kind of an odd name isn't it?”

“What you think it should be called Dave or something? I'm not sure it got a choice in how it's referred to, people in ancient cultures probably just gave it a name that represented...” Realisation was dawning across his face. “Derek,” he breathed. “I think you might be an actual genius.” Derek smiled at him, Stiles continued. “I was thinking it was weird that this could be such an old powerful demon and yet there seemed to be so little written about it but if you just stop thinking of Legion as it's name but as a descriptor then suddenly.” He gestured wildly. “It's appearing a lot more frequently.”

“I know.” Derek said nodding. “Like this bit here.” He gestured to an English translation of an Aramaic text. “This one references the 'myriad', this one here,” he gestured at a different piece of paper, “is a translation of an Egyptian scroll it refers to 'host', this one the 'countless,' this one the 'horde'.”

“They're all synonyms. They're all referencing the same demon.” Said Stiles looking thunderstruck.

“Yeah, but I don't think anyone realized because they're different texts from ancient cultures and maybe nobody was trying to collate them all together. If we look for references under all those different names we might find more information."

Stiles leaned back in his chair. “This is huge. I can't believe you figured that out man!"

Derek scowled a little. “You don't need to sound _quite_ so surprised.”

“No. I didn't mean it like that, trust me. It's just, this is a massive deal. We should tell Scott what we've found out.” Stiles made to reach for his phone and Derek felt something sharp and instinctive bite at him. He knew that wouldn't be a good idea."

“Wait.” Derek said. “We should be careful.”

“Careful of Scott?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“Careful of everyone and anyone whose had contact with that demon.” Derek said seriously. “At least two of these legends refer to Legion being able to travel between hosts through a simple touch. It sits in their minds influencing their subconscious, gradually taking over until it's ready to make it's move.”

“Scott hasn't touched it.” Stiles scoffed, still holding his phone. "When would he even have..." he paled. “Oh my God. He cut it's hair. For the spell to get you back in your body. He said that after the car crash it was unconscious and he cut it's hair.”

“You said yourself, he's been acting a little out of character recently, and he's been fighting really hard for us to stop looking into this. To stop looking for this demon. That's not like Scott.” Derek added. “It might be nothing but we should be cautious. If it is sitting there in Scott's subconscious influencing him in some way we don't want to alert it to the fact that we know, before we're ready to deal with it.” It was worrying, the thought of an Alpha possessed by an ancient and powerful demon. Derek wasn't even sure _how_ they were supposed to deal with it if they were right.

Stiles was ashen, he scrubbed a hand through his hair worriedly. “He's Scott. He's too good. Too great a guy to be possessed by a demon. I just...” he trailed off biting his lip with worry.

“He might not be.” Derek said quickly wanting to reassure Stiles, “but we should be careful. If it is possessing Scott it's not going to want to let him go.”

“He's an Alpha. All that power.” Stiles muttered. “How do we know that either of us haven't been affected, that we're not...” Stiles trailed off again looking sick to the pit of his stomach.

“We don't,” Derek said firmly. “but the fact that we're both here talking about trying to get rid of it is probably a good sign.”

“We need to do so much more research.” Stiles said. “Did you manage to get in contact with Chris?”

Derek shook his head. “I've texted and left a voice mail. I've heard nothing back and there's nobody at his house.”

“Fuck.” Stiles muttered under his breath. “Fuck.”

  

o0o

 

 

 

 **So, here is the sequel as promised! Note ANGST WITH A HAPPY ENDING TAG! Really looking forward to sharing this story with you. I have it all planned out, should hopefully be able to update about once a week. This is going to be from Derek's point of view. If Clarity was how Stiles fell in love with Derek, then Remedy is definitely how Derek fell in love with Stiles.**  
  
**If you enjoy it then leave a Kudos or a Comment. They make me so happy! Also if you have any concrit or spot any errors then let me know. This is unbetaed so all mistakes are mine!**

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Reposted because I accidentally deleted it! A.K.A. Do not try to edit a chapter while small children are about. You will be distracted and make a stupid mistake****
> 
> I can't remember what I put here before but basically. I re-edited chapter one a little to add more depth to Derek. You may benefit from re-reading it if you haven't read it fairly recently.
> 
> Sorry, for the delay in getting this out. 
> 
> The stuff in Bold is them texting each other. Also in researching the roadtrip I assumed that Beacon Hills in Northern California. When I saw there was a statue of a giant Green Olive on their route, I couldn't resist adding it in.

**Stiles: Hey. I heard from Ginny. There's a book she thinks might be helpful for us. **She doesn't have a copy though.****  

**Derek: Helpful.**

**Stiles: There's an occult library in SF that has one.**   **Thought we could go over there this wkend. Up for it?**

**Stiles: Thoughts?**

**Stiles: Well?**

**Stiles: Derek?!**

**Derek: Okay.**

Derek had deleted and retyped that last text a hundred different times that day, it had been a complete waste of a Wednesday . He kept telling himself he didn't  _want_ to go to San Francisco with Stiles. He wanted to keep his distance. Stiles was more then capable of going by himself. He composed text after text telling Stiles he couldn't go, but deleted them all unsent.

He was going.

Derek knew Stiles attracted trouble like it was his job. After all, one of the big constants since they'd known each other had been mutual life saving. He knew it was  _just_ a road trip to a library in San Francisco. It shouldn't result in murder and mayhem, but that didn't mean it wouldn't . Laura had  _just_ been taking a short trip back to Beacon Hills, Kate had  _just_ wanted him to show her around his family home, the list of supposedly mundane things in his life that had turned into complete clusterfucks was endless. He had learned to be constantly wary. In the end he knew he wouldn't be able to settle, if he wasn't there keeping an eye on Stiles to make sure he was safe. That was the  _only_ reason he was going.

Stiles texted back almost immediately, like he'd been sitting there waiting for Derek's response. They agreed to meet on the Saturday morning and make the journey in Derek's car.

Derek kind of hated himself for looking forward to it.

 

o0o

 

Scott dropped by unexpectedly on the Thursday. Derek let him in, feeling tense. Scott still smelled like Scott, he still had the puppy dog eyes and the lop-sided smile, but Derek couldn't shake the feeling that something about him was off. He couldn't forget the way Scott had cowed Stiles using his Alpha powers just the other day. An act that had seemed so out of character.

Derek had always believed there were two types of Alpha. Those who ruled by fear, with an iron fist like Peter and Deucalion, and those who inspired loyalty in others by dint of their integrity, compassion and moral courage like his mother. Like Scott had done up until now. He didn't like to think about what kind of Alpha he had been. He knew he'd failed to be either type successfully and had slipped down the cracks between the two. 

“Hey man!” Scott said ambling past him and into the loft. “How's things?”

“Good.” Derek replied closing the door carefully and turning to look at him. “Drink?”

“Nah, I'm good thanks.” Scott threw himself down on the couch and sprawled out, the epitome of a carefree teenager.

“Is everything okay?” Derek asked warily.

“Yeah dude! Everything's fine. Just wanted to check in. See how you were.” Scott replied amiably.

Derek shrugged and made his way over to sit on the end of the bed. “I'm fine.”

“Good. Good.” Scott said and then eventually added. “Cora okay?”

“Fine.”

“That's good.”

Silence descended between them, thick and uncomfortable. Scott pinned him with a thoughtful stare. Derek resisted the urge to squirm.

“Actually, there is something.” Scott said eventually. “I wanted to get your opinion on it, maybe, ask for your help.”

Derek raised an eyebrow.

Scott licked his lips and continued. “I'm worried about Stiles."

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, it's just, do you think he's being a bit... weird at the moment?” Scott asked looking across at Derek intently.

“Stiles is always weird.” Derek said blankly.

Scott laughed and looked away. “Yeah. I guess. Weird- _er_ though?”

“In what way?” Derek asked. Carefully impassive.

Scott's glanced across at him, he cocked his head to the side, almost bird like. “He seems jumpier then usual, more nervous and kind of... distant. I'm worried about him Derek.”

Derek paused before replying. Stiles had been different lately. Coming over, seeking him out, trying to be friends. He  _had_  thought it was odd.

Scott continued. “I guess it's just, he's been through a lot y'know. First the Nogitsune, being used like that to hurt and kill all those people, and then to absorb you into his psyche?” Scott shook his head, “He didn't take it well.”

“That's only natural.” Derek replied. “Considering what he's been through.”

Scott leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “It's more then that though. He's become totally obsessed with this Legion thing. Paranoid even. It's not... it's not healthy. I think he needs support but he's pushing me away. I'm just so worried about him, Derek he's like my brother. He's been through so much and I think he needs help to move on and get better.” he looked over at Derek wide eyed and pleading.

In that moment it kind of made sense and Derek experienced a crushing moment of self doubt. What if Scott was right? He himself  _had_ noticed that Stiles was behaving strangely. Stiles had been through trauma after trauma. What if both he and Stiles were both wrong, so damaged and paranoid that they were looking for problems where none existed. What if by agreeing to help Stiles research Legion he was just enabling a traumatized and deluded teenager? After all, there had been no demon activity in the best part of a month. Why would that be if the demon was still here? What if Scott wasn't secretly possessed? Here he was after all, apparently sincerely concerned for his friend.

“What do you think we should do?” Derek asked uncertainly.

Scott gave him a relieved smile. “I don't... I just... sometimes I think he needs more then  _we_  can give him. I hate to say it but I'm starting to think he needs professional help."

“Like counselling?” Derek said slowly.

Scott made a face. “Honestly Derek, I think it's past that point. He's been possessed. He's crippled by guilt over the Nogitsune, he's having nightmares, he's paranoid about Legion, he's challenging my decisions all the time. Plus there's the pressure of all his Spark training. Deaton says he's struggling with that too y'know? It's all too much for him. I think he needs more then counselling...”

Derek felt cold. Suddenly he could see where this was going. He stood up abruptly, his fists clenched.

“I've been thinking about it,” said Scott, leaning forward, the picture of heartbroken concern. “And it's not an easy decision but it  _might_  be best for him if he gets readmitted to Eichen House. They've got the facilities to really support him there. Staff who are trained to help him with the grief and can help him face up to... reality.” Scott looked at him expectantly.

“Right.” Derek said hollowly, his gut churning. “Eichen House.” he folded his arms defensively across his chest.

Scott stood up mirroring his position and frowned. “Look, I know it seems hard, but I'm his best friend Derek. I only want what's right for him. I'd do anything to see him well again.”

“Why tell me? What do you expect me to do?” Derek asked with a calmness he didn't feel.

Scott gave a little laugh. “He likes you, he... trusts you."

“I could say the same about you.” Derek said evenly.

Scott laughed hollowly. “Maybe, he doesn't seem to trust me much at the moment though.” His face looked stormy. “I can see it in his eyes. Smell it on him. He's wary of me. Suspicious. He's holding back, because we disagree about this Legion thing.” his eyes glowed a faint red and just for a moment his face contorted in rage.

Derek said nothing, watching him closely, and Scott seemed to check himself. His face relaxed a little, the red glow faded from his eyes.

“Look.” Scott said stepping forward, his smile soft and menacing. “I know he's coming here. Regularly. I can smell his scent all over this loft. It's clinging to  _everything._  I can smell yours in his room too.” He extended his claws a little and examined them casually. “If I didn't see him at school, I'd say he was spending more time with you then he is with me.”

“Is that a problem?” Derek growled out, his heart pounding in his chest.

Scott laughed, bright and sudden. He held up his hands, no claws visible. “No! No. I'm just saying that for whatever reason,  _you_  might be in the best position to help him at the moment. Make him see sense, encourage him to seek the help he  _obviously_ requires .” Scott stepped a little closer and Derek fought the urge to take a step back. “ He seems to have latched on to you doesn't he? You know what he's like when he... latches on to someone. You have more of a say in what he does then you think. So, think about it for me, okay? I just want what's best for him. I want him to get the help he  _needs."_

Derek took a deep breath. “I think I can promise to give him that.” He said, not a hint of a lie.

Scott studied him intently and then grinned at widely. “Good. I'm glad we understand each other. Let me know how it goes. Well. I better motor, thanks for that Derek.” he strode across to the door. “Don't worry, I'll let myself out.”

The loft door slid shut and Derek sank down onto the bed shaken, convinced now more then ever that  _that_ wasn't Scott talking. The real Scott, would never think about sending anyone back to Eichen House. Let alone Stiles.

 

o0o

 

Derek picked Stiles up at seven o'clock on the Saturday morning. It was going to be at least a four hour drive to San Francisco. When he knocked on the front door, the Sheriff opened it.

“Derek! Come in.”

“Sheriff.”

The Sheriff smiled easily. “Call me John.”

Derek nodded curtly. He still felt a little uneasy around the man who had arrested him more then once.

“Would you like a drink son? Or some breakfast?” John asked leading him through to the kitchen.

“I've already eaten.” Derek said automatically as his eyes swept the room looking for Stiles. “But thanks.” He added almost as an afterthought.

“Take a seat.” John, gestured at a chair. “I'm sure Stiles will be down in a minute.” He walked over to the counter and poured himself a steaming mug of coffee. “You're sure I can't tempt you?” He said gesturing to it.

“No, thank-you. I'm fine.” Derek said, sitting stiffly in his chair.

John grabbed his mug and the morning paper from the kitchen and wandered over to sit opposite Derek at the table. He unfolded the paper shaking it open and unhooked his glasses from his shirt pocket putting them on. “So, how are you son? It's been a while, and we've never really met under the right circumstances to chat.” John said peering at him over the rim of his glasses. “Settled back into Beacon Hills?"

Derek shifted a little uncomfortably. “Yes.”

John turned a page idly and smiled a little to himself. His eyes flicked up to assess Derek. “Are you still living at the loft?”

“Yes.”

“Good it seemed like a nice place."

Considering the one and only time the Sheriff had been in his loft was when the Nogitsune had been controlling Stiles and forced them all to battle the Oni, Derek wasn't sure what to say.

Silence descended between them again, Derek's eyes roamed the room, he'd never really sat down in the Stilinski kitchen before. It was nice, homely. His eyes snagged on a picture of a pregnant woman who must have been Stiles' mother. She was smiling at the camera, her hand resting protectively over her bump. Beneath it on a side table there stood a large mason jar filled with shells that looked familiar.

His could feel John watching him.

“Do you work Derek?” John asked looking at him intently over the top of the newspaper.

“Not at the moment.” Derek replied, caught off guard by the change of topic. “Why do you ask?"

John shrugged, “Work is good for you. Brings you out of yourself. Gives you a purpose. Gives you the chance to make friends. Have you considered getting a job?”

Perhaps it should have been weird and patronising, hearing another man talk to him like this. After all what business was it of the Sheriffs if he worked? This wasn't a lecture though, there was kindness in the Sheriff's eyes, almost fatherly concern.

Derek hadn't had someone to talk to him like this in so long. He ached suddenly for his own Dad, who had been wise and kind and funny. Who had smelt of sandalwood and earth. Who had taught him how to shift and who had played hide and go seek with him in the preserve when he was a child. The sudden wave of grief almost winded him.

“Sorry.” the Sheriff said into the silence, “You're a grown man, you probably don't want advice from an old guy like me.”

“It-it's fine. I don't mind.” Derek said his voice bruised with emotion. “I'm not sure- I can't-” He couldn't speak. “Maybe at some point I'll...” the words died in his throat.

John stopped feigning interest in the paper and looked up, with compassionate eyes. “It's okay son. I get it. You've lost a lot and you have responsibilities outside of finding paid work. Responsibilities to Scott and the pack. I didn't mean to push it's just... if you ever _wanted_ to find work, we might be able to find a spot for you down at the station.”

Derek nodded gratefully. “Thanks.” He bit out. “I- It means a lot that you would think of me.”

John shrugged genially. “It would be useful to have a werewolf on the force. Beacon Hills being what it is.” he took a sip of coffee. Derek glanced toward the door. From upstairs he could hear the sounds of Stiles scuffling about, obviously getting himself ready.

When he glanced back at John, the man was giving him an assessing look. “Derek, there's something else I want to talk to you about, if I may?”

“What's that?” Derek asked feeling a little unsettled under the man's gaze.

“Stiles.” The Sheriff began. “I- He said you don't remember about the urn, about you being absorbed into his mind."

Derek said with confusion. “I remember. I remember being in the cave and Stiles touching the urn. I remember waking up in Deaton's clinic.”

John looked awkward. “You don't remember anything... else?”

Derek shrugged. “Apparently I took control of Stiles body briefly and help ed fight off a demon. I don't remember that.”

The Sheriff looked at him, his expression troubled and Derek wasn't sure what he was missing. “Is there something  _else_  I should be remembering?” he asked.

At that moment Stiles clattered down the stairs and burst into the kitchen and the conversation was forgotten.

“Oh God. Derek, you're already here and I'm running late. Do I have time to eat some breakfast? Yes? No?”

John shook his head and drained his coffee cup. He picked up the paper and folded it under his arm. “It was nice to see you Derek. Take care of my boy today. Don't let him get in any trouble."

Stiles looked affronted. “Hey! I can take care of myself.”

Derek and John both looked at him with undisguised disbelief.

“I can!” Stiles said indignantly. “Besides which Daddy-o, I'll have you know I've saved Derek's life multiple times. Mul-ti-ple."

Derek rolled his eyes. “I'll keep an eye on him Sheriff.”

“John.” John corrected, smiling at him. “See you later boys. Love you son.” he called to Stiles as he left the room.

As soon as he left, Stiles glanced round, shuffling awkwardly. “So you were just having a good ol' chat with Dad huh?” he said nervously. “Did he um... mention anything particular?”

Derek paused, he didn't feel like sharing the Sheriff's job offer just yet. “He said I'm a saint for putting up with you.” He dead-panned.

“You're a saint! You! What about what  _I_ have to put up with?” Stiles exploded, staggering back dramatically. “Wait here Hale. Just for that I  _am_ definitelygoing to have a bowl of cereal before we leave.”

 

o0o

 

It was a nice drive. Although as Stiles insisted on pointing out, it would have been even nicer if he still had the Camaro. Scenery zipped by though and Stiles kept up a steady steam of chatter, for once studiously avoiding the subject of Legion. At one point Derek would have found it annoying, now though there was some familiar about it, almost cathartic. In the back of his mind he knew he had to tell Stiles about his conversation with Scott the other day, warn him about the storm that was now on the horizon. For the moment though, it was nice to just enjoy the drive. Even Stiles restless chatter dried up eventually and they drove along in comfortable silence for a mile or two, the radio a comforting hum in the background, when Stiles said apropos of nothing. “It's a bit weird though isn't it?” 

“What's weird?” Derek said keeping his eyes steadily on the road.

“Demons. First the Nogitsune, then Legion, I mean even you getting absorbed into my head. Possessing people, absorbing psyches, it's all kind of... variations on a theme isn't it?” Stiles replied thoughtfully.

“Your point is?” Derek asked.

“Well... Do you think it's a coincidence?”

Derek shrugged. “It's not a coincidence. The Nemeton is a giant beacon attracting supernatural entities, and demons are supernatural entities.”

“Yeah, but can't we have something other then demons.” Stiles grumbled. “I want pixies or a Hippogriff or a Niffler or something..”

“This isn't Harry Potter, those creatures don't exist.” Derek said blandly.

“Says the  _werewolf._ ” Muttered Stiles derisively. “Dammit I _wanted_ a pet niffler.” He added under his breath, before saying more loudly. “Seriously though. You don't think it's weird, that there are like... two demon related crises one after the other?

Derek considered it carefully. “It feels weird.” He admitted. “I wouldn't ascribe too much significance to it yet though. What is it you always say? One's an incidence, two's a coincidence, three's a pattern.”

Stiles swung round in his chair to look at him incredulously. “You remember that?”

“Of course and you should try to as well . You sound like you're expecting there to be a  _different_ monster every week, like this is Buffy and there's some kind of cosmic producer demanding a new villain to keep the ratings up . The truth is, life isn't like that and it's entirely possible that we could get two demons in a row  _and_ that they would be unrelated to each other. Probable even with the Nemeton attracting the supernatural as it is.”

“Buffy?” Stiles said weakly.

Derek flushed a little. “The Vampire Slayer? You haven't watched it?”

Stiles snorted. “No. No. I've watched it, I'm just amazed you..." 

“I watched TV growing up Stiles.” Derek snapped back. “If anything I'm amazed  _you've_ seen it. Aren't you a little young?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It's repeated all the time. I've watched it. Anyway, Faith pretty much taught me what my dick was for. Sexy, mysterious, bad girl who eventually makes good, not to mention the leather...” He trailed off, the tips of his ears pink. “Never mind,” He said quickly. “So you really think this could just be a coincidence?”

“Yeah. Why not?” Derek reasoned. “It's like flipping a coin twenty times in a row. When things are truly random, you can get a run of something. Like maybe six heads in a row or even more, if enough different people did that one of them might even flip twenty heads in a row. We're conditioned to attribute meaning to occurrences like that when they happen, but actually it's just one of a number of possible outcomes. Probability.”

“Probability?That's what you're going with.” Stiles repeated in disbelief.

“I'm not saying we shouldn't be aware that it  _could_ be more.” Derek reiterated with mounting irritation. “Just not immediately assume it _is_."

“Well I think it's weird.” Stiles said firmly turning back to look out of the window. “I just don't know what to do about it.”

“Maybe this book will give us a clue.” Derek responded.

“Maybe.” Stiles sighed. “I just... I hope so. I'm really worried about Scott.”

Derek exhaled a feeling of dread low in his stomach. “Yeah- about Sc-”

“Oh my God!” Stiles shouted gesturing wildly out the window.

“What?” Derek said, panic making him lose his train of thought.

Stiles had his face pressed up to the passenger window and was pointing at a sign. “It's a giant green olive! Stop the car! Stop the car! We need to get a picture.”

Derek was torn between relief that nothing was actually wrong and irritation. “Are you serious?” He asked in disbelief.

“As a fucking heart attack dude. I am going to have my picture next to a giant green olive and you are going to take it.”

“Stiles.” Derek began.

“Come on Derek,” Stiles wheedled. “You know you want to.”

“I know  _you_ want to.” Derek countered, indicating to turn off. “You do realize that's not the same thing.”

  

o0o

 

It took another three hours to finally get to San Francisco, Stiles made them stop twice more, once for lunch and once to use the restroom. It was early afternoon before they finally reached the city. Then there was a further half an hour trying and failing to find the library, bickering gently all the while.

In the end they pulled up outside an unlikely looking set of Victorian town houses in what looked like a residential street, not a library in sight.

“You're sure this is the right address.” Derek said skeptically for the fifth time, as he turned off the engine.

“Yes.” Stiles snapped impatiently. “It's number thirty. Come on!”

He tumbled out of the car and jogged across the road and, sighing loudly, Derek followed him.

The house in question was shabby, the paintwork was a little chipped and there was a loose tile on the roof but there was an elegance about it. There were window boxes filled with bright flowers and a big brass door knocker. Through the front window Derek could just make out overstuffed armchairs covered in patchwork quilts. It looked less like the premier occult library in California and more like the house of an eccentric aunt. Stiles bounded up the front steps and knocked on the door.

An elderly woman with slate grey hair tied back in a loose bun answered. She peered at them over pince-nez glasses in bafflement, before saying in a reedy voice. “Can I help you?"

“We're here to see the library.” Stiles said with enthusiasm. “Ginny sent me.”

“You'll be needing to speak to Alice.” She said, giving them both a long look. “You better come in."

They followed her in as she shuffled through the dark musty corridor of the old house. She smelt strongly of mothballs, damp and old paper and the house didn't smell much better. She ushered them into the living room Derek had seen from the road. It was dusty and sunlight slicing through the window lit up dust motes circling lazily in the air. Every surface in the room was cluttered with old ornaments and figurines. The walls were crowded with old paintings. It felt like they were in an old antiques store.

“Wait here.” She said and shuffled off without another word.

Stiles turned to Derek. “Well, this must be it.” He shrugged, looking around. “It's not quite what I thought it'd be.”

“What? Were you expecting Hogwarts?” Derek said dryly.

Stiles looked a little sad. “Expecting no. Hoping though? Yeah I kinda was.”

Derek smiled in spite of himself. “It's probably best it's not, you'd only get in trouble for breaking into the restricted section.”

Stiles snorted with laughter. “I feel like you mean that as an insult, but it's absolutely true and I'm fucking proud of it.” he moved over to the fireplace and started fiddling with the various figurines that were on the mantel.

There was the sound of footsteps coming up the corridor. The door was pushed open, and a beautiful young woman with flowing auburn hair stepped into the room. She gave them both a small smile. “Hi! I'm Alice. I hear you want to use the library.”

Stiles looked at her and blushed nearly dropping a porcelain shepherdess that he had been examining. He caught it, and put it back on the shelf carefully, blushing harder. “Hi, I'm Stiles.”

“Ah yes!” She glanced briefly at Stiles. “Ginny contacted me and said you wanted to come over. And you are?” She said smiling up at Derek winningly.

“Derek.” He said.

“Lovely to meet you.” She said holding out her hand for him to shake. She looked up at him and licked her lower lip nervously. The smell of lust bloomed around her.

Derek shook her hand awkwardly. He wasn't stupid. He knew that people seemed to like the way he looked. It wasn't flattering though. Not when that was _all_ they knew about him. He face was fixed in a rictus grin. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Stiles looking at them, his mouth gaping, a slightly bitter smell wafting across the room from his direction.

“Where's the library?” Derek asked abruptly anxious to move on from this.

“The library?” She said still gazing at him. “Oh God! Yes! The library!” She laughed shrilly. “Of course... come with me.” She blushed prettily and turned away.

“Unbelievable!” Stiles mouthed at him silently, once her back was turned.

Derek rolled his eyes.

She led them out of the room and through a long corridor into the back of the house and then down narrow stone steps to the basement. They reached a large wooden door with runes carved into the surface.

She traced the runes with her index finger, muttering words under her breath in a language Derek wasn't familiar with. The runes glowed briefly and the door swung open.

“This is the premier occult library on the west coast. We have all kinds of books here, information on supernatural creatures, history, spell-books. Whatever you want.” She turned and gestured to the room.

The basement was lined with book shelves, each filled to bursting with books. The room smelt like old leather, paper and the sharp almost electric smell of magic. Next to him Stiles vibrated with excitement. “Ginny recommend a specific book that might be helpful to us.” He said.

“Yes.” Alice replied swiftly. “I've already found it for you and left it out.” She pointed and for the first time Derek noticed a small table tucked into one corner with four small wooden chairs drawn up to it. In the middle of the table was a large, blood red, leather-bound book. “There are other books that you might find helpful if you're interested in demonology. However this is probably a good starting point.”

“That's great. Thanks, so much!” Stiles said rushing over toward the table with enthusiasm.

“The other books are on the topic can be found over here.” She gestured to a shelf over to their left. Feel free to look at whatever takes your interest. All we ask is that you return all the books to the shelves when you've finished with them and that you wear gloves when handling them.”

She pointed to a low table. On it was a box filled with latex gloves. “A lot of these books are very old, and we have to be extremely careful how we handle them now. Oh and no eating or drinking in here obviously.” She smiled up at Derek, and took a step closer to him. “Is there... anything else I can get for  _you_?”

“Not at the moment. Thank-you.” Said Stiles appearing suddenly at his elbow, a fixed smile on his face.

“We're fine.” Derek agreed.

“Okay.” She said with palpable disappointment. “Just let me know if I can help with anything.”

With that she left and the door swung shut behind her. Stiles sighed and looked after her with narrowed eyes. His scent bitter.

“You don't like her?” Derek said curiously.

Stiles jumped a little, startled out of his own thoughts. “Wha-? Oh, Alice. She's okay. I just... I don't like the way she was all over you is all. I mean, unless you want her to be all over you? Which would be fine. I mean it's not really any of my business and she seems nice enough and she's beautiful and definitely interested in you. She's also probably, definitely not evil or anything.” he grimaced as he realized what he'd said. “Not that only evil people are attracted to... I mean. Oh God. You know what! You should ask her out. You should ask her out and go on a date. I can stay here and look at the book. You don't need to be here for that.” He trailed off looking uncomfortable, his scent unhappy and maybe... guilty?

“I'm not going to ask some random stranger on a date Stiles.” Derek said exasperatedly. “I'm here with  _you_. To help  _you_.”

Stiles breathed out a long breath. “I know. I- sorry. I tend to talk to much when I'm nervous. It's a whole thing.”

“You don't say.” Derek responded dryly. “I'd never noticed."

“Oh fuck you.” Stiles said good naturedly. “Let's take a look at this book.”

 

o0o

 

Derek had hoped they would open the book and find the answers easily. He'd hoped for a step by step guide on how to find and destroy Legion. It wasn't that easy. The book was written in old English and was extremely difficult to read. None of the websites Stiles had been using to help them translate could help them, because being in a magic filled basement meant their mobile phone reception was non-existent. However it was a bit like reading a Shakespeare play. At first the words seemed alien. but the more you read, the more you got into the rhythm of the language and the easier it became.

They poured over the book, making notes and trying to find out as much as they could. After six hours of work, bickering and the occasional pause to go upstairs to get a drink, they had managed to establish that demons were divided into sub groups. The Nogitsune had been a trickster spirit. Legion was one of the Fallen. Fallen were rare, even for demons. Legends about them said they were angels thrown out of heaven to roam the earth, feeding on the human spirit to survive. Sometimes they just sat idly by like a parasite attached to the host subconscious mind, subtly influencing them. Eventually the host would sicken, grow thin and pale and eventually the demon would be forced to move on. There were rare reports of Fallen completely overwhelming their host, consuming them completely and leaving nothing but dust in return.

The real point of interest though came when Stiles found a passage that detailed their true form. There was a picture of a horrific winged creature with teeth like needles and black leathery wings.

“This is what attacked us in the Jeep that time. This was it in it's true form.” Stiles said excitedly.

Derek had no memory of that event, but he had been told about it once he woke up. He leaned over to take a closer look at the passage.

“It seems to be saying that they only take their true form under great duress. That it destroys the host to do it and they can't survive for long without a host body. While more dangerous in this form for a short while, it weakens the demon to do it and it needs to find another host immediately.” Derek said slowly.

There was a picture, medieval and grotesque, of a woman in the clutches of a Fallen, it was hunched over her, it's jaws unhinged like a snake, about to take a bite from her neck. Stiles shuddered. “It tried to do that to me. In the preserve.” He said. “It wanted to find out what had happened to the urn and it transformed. It shape-shifted first into Deaton actually and then it took it's true form.”

“It doesn't seem to mention anything about shape-shifting into other forms here.” Derek replied curiously, scanning the page. “I wonder if there's anything more about it in some of these other books.”

Stiles glanced at his watch. “It's already evening Derek and we it'll take us four hours to drive home.” his stomach gurgled noisily and he blushed.

“Hungry?” Derek said with a smirk.

“Starving.” Stiles confessed. “It is a shame though. We could do with at least another day here.”

Derek looked at him thoughtfully. “We could just get a hotel room and come back tomorrow.” He suggested.

“I would, but I don't really have the money to do that.” Stiles said discomfit radiating from him.

Derek shrugged. “I could pay.” He said. “Assuming your Dad won't mind us staying on."

Stiles looked uncertain. “I'd love to but I feel like I should pay you back or something. Hotel rooms aren't cheap.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I can afford it Stiles and I wouldn't suggest it if I minded. Besides, I really think we should come back again and see what else we can discover. For Scott's sake.”

Stiles nodded slowly. “Okay.” He said finally. “For Scott.” he smiled broadly as his stomach gurgled again. “Dinners on me though. I do have the money to cover that.”

Derek shook his head. “Fine. If that's what you want.”

Stiles stood up from the table and stretched, his shirt riding up and exposing the taut, pale skin of his stomach and Derek felt something swoop low in his own. He squashed the feeling down quickly and stood up, closing the book. Stiles gathered up their notes and stuffed them into his old messenger bag.

“I feel like wings. Whaddya think Der?” He said cheekily.

“Wings are fine.” Derek responded feeling his heart clench a little.

“You don't look like they're fine.” Stiles responded easily. “You look like someone told you your pet dog died. You don't like wings? We can get something else.”

“It's not that. Wings are fine. Just- go and call your Dad, let him no we're staying on.” Derek grit out.

His family had called him Der. It had been their nickname for him. Nobody had felt comfortable enough around him to even try and use a nickname, not for a long while. Hearing it fall so casually from Stiles lips felt... different, not bad, but like a muscle that hadn't been exercised in a while, tender and a little raw. Good though. Stiles had earned the right to use that nickname. In some ways Derek felt that  _he_  had earned the right to hear someone say it again.

It was a comforting thought.

 

o0o

 

 **So, I feel like a gave birth to this chapter. Literally, I wrote about 4000 words and just hated it and so scrapped it all and started re-writing it again in the middle of this week. I'm happier with this, I'm still not convinced I've quite got Derek's voice right. He's a real challenge to write. Like an iceberg, ninety percent of what's going on with him happens where other's can't see it. Still though I'm sort of happy how this turned out. It probably still needs a bit of polish, but if I kept it till I was completely happy, you'd probably never see it. I hope you enjoy it and I'm sorry it was late this week. :-)**  
  
**Also, I always wanted a pet Niffler. Who wouldn't right? They were the most of awesome thing ever and they could find treasure. I totally believe with all my heart that Stiles would want a pet Niffler too.**

**As always comments, kudos are welcome. If I've made a mistake or you have any concrit then feel free to point it out as this work is completely unbetaed!**

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek experiences a painful reminder of Kate Argent and Stiles tries to support him as best he can. Chris Argent finally gets in contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with Derek and Kate Argent. He experiences a trigger which forces him to confront her abuse of him and his efforts to cope with it. Stiles looks out for him. I've tried to handle this as sensitively as possible but if you feel I need to tag for something and haven't then please let me know. Also I completely invented a motel chain.

“Okay” Stiles said tapping at his phone furiously. “I've found a motel not too far away, and there's a diner that's got good reviews not too far from there. Diner first?”

Derek nodded.

The diner was small, tucked away in a side street. There weren't many people in it, but the wings were great and the service was good.

Derek felt so drained after a day of driving and research that at first all he could do was collapse in the booth and devour the food as it appeared. Even Stiles didn't seemed to have much energy for conversation. However once he'd eaten a bit he seemed to perk up and then he started chatting enthusiastically about everything from the last Avengers movie (disappointing), to his Dad's diet (still not great, despite constant nagging) to whether or not Minotaurs ever existed (don't look at me like that Derek. You're a fricking _werewolf_.)

Derek was content just to listen and laugh and maybe add the occasional comment. There was something soothing about not being expected to contribute. Not that Stiles wouldn't listen if Derek wanted to talk, but he didn't push him and that was _nice_.

At least, it was nice right up until the point that they ordered dessert, and he suddenly remembered that he _still_ hadn't spoken to Stiles about the whole Scott situation. The knowledge settled like lead in his stomach, and suddenly he didn't feel hungry any more.

He didn't know where to start. He had never been tactful, but Scott and Stiles were like brothers, he wanted to do this right. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

Stiles looked up at him expectantly, his tongue appearing briefly to swipe hot sauce off his lower lip.

“I spoke to Scott earlier this week.” Derek began and paused.

“And?” Stiles prompted.

 “Stiles this won't be easy for you to hear but... he asked me to look out for you. Said he was worried about you.” Derek began. “He said you need professional help.”

Stiles dropped his jaw and the wing he was holding. “Professional help? Like what exactly?” he asked.

Derek grimaced. “Eichen House.” he said eventually. “He said you were obsessed with Legion, that you've been unstable ever since the Nogitsune. He said he was concerned about your mental state.”

Stiles face closed off. “What did _you_ say?” he asked.

Derek exhaled slowly. “He told me to encourage you to get the help you need. I said I would."

Stiles pushed his plate away, his face thunderous. “How could you...”

Derek leaned forward and reached out to grasp Stiles arm. Stiles recoiled and Derek dropped his hand. “He thinks I agree with him, and I let him.” He said urgently. “I didn't want him to pick up on a lie and we need to keep him on side for as long as we can. We don't want to reveal our hand too early.” He trailed off.

Stiles shoulders sagged and his head lolled back and hit the top of his chair.

He smelled sad.

No.

He smelled devastated.

He picked up at a napkin and began fiddling listlessly with it.

“I was hoping it wasn't true.” Stiles said eventually as he shredded the napkin into confetti. “I guess I was hoping _we_ were wrong. That Legion hadn't possessed Scott.”

“Me too.” Derek said helplessly. He didn't know what else to say. He wasn't good at this. Words, advice, emotional support. Laura used to say it was laziness, that he just needed practice and that he should always remember to be kind.

He had snorted derisively at that.

There had only been room for guilt and anger after the fire, everything else had been burned away.

There was certainly no room for patience or kindness.

There had been no point in building friendships or learning to care about people, because people left, they died, they let you down and they walked away. That's what they did. No matter how hard you tried. At least that's what he had told himself for the past few years.

Stiles seemed so unhappy though and it crossed Derek's mind briefly that he wished he'd listened to his sister, because right now he wanted he to be the person she thought he could be.

The kind of person who was comforting.

The kind of person who knew what to say.

He wished he could be that person for Stiles. He wanted to say something to make it better.

“At least we know for sure now it's not Scott.” Derek said finally. “Scott would never have tried to get you to go back to Eichen House.”

Stiles nodded grimly but didn't say anything.

Silence descended between them again. Dessert arrived but neither of them had much appetite for it and after ten minutes pushing it round their plates uneaten they paid their bill and left.

Stiles navigated them to the motel he'd found, neither of them was now in the mood to do anything else but settle down for the night and go to sleep.

As they drove into the motel car park Derek felt his stomach drop.

It was a Macarthy's Roadhouse. The same chain of motels that Kate had taken him to when they were... His stomach roiled and his palms began to sweat. His jaw clenched as he beat the feelings into submission.

It was fine. He could do this. It was just a fucking motel. He'd stayed in motels since the fire. He was being stupid.

 _Not this chain though._ His mind replied treacherously. _You've driven miles out of your way to avoid ever staying at this chain again._

He squashed that voice down.

This wasn't going to be an issue.

He wasn't going to let it.

He locked the car and trailed after Stiles as they made their way to the reception. Everything about the place seemed familiar even though he'd never been to this particular motel before. That was the thing about chains though, they were designed to be familiar, so this had the same ugly magenta carpets. The same chipped magnolia paint. From the smell, they even used the same cheap cleaning products. It made him feel sick.

Stiles was busy chatting to the guy on reception, and Derek tried to listen, he did, but all he could do was struggle not to think about Kate.

In the end Stiles had to prompt him to pay for the room, apologizing as he did so. Derek got his card out with shaking hands. He couldn't concentrate. _Tell him._ The voice inside his head screamed. _Tell_ _Stiles_ _you don't want to stay here. It'll be fine, he'll understand._

He couldn't bring himself to do it though, couldn't articulate the words. Somehow he didn't know what would be worse: Staying here or sitting down and explaining to Stiles why he couldn't. Neither seemed like a good option.

He trailed after Stiles as they made their way to their room.

The closer they got, the more his mind played on it.It wasn't like he was keen on staying anywhere really, hotels, motels, B&B's there were too many scents; other peoples cologne and spunk and sweat jumbled all together into one big sickly stench.

Kate used to take him to the Macarthy's Roadhouse a couple of miles over from Beacon Hills. She would hire a room for them for an hour or two at the weekends. She'd never brought him back to her apartment and at the time he'd never questioned it. Instead it had been fumbled trysts on cheap sheets surrounded by the stench of a thousand previous occupants. She'd laughed at him when his nose had crinkled up at the smell.

_Enough._

_Enough thinking about Kate._ _She doesn't have any power over you. This is just a_ _ **fucking** _ _motel_. _Just a room._ _S_ _top being so weak._

It didn't matter how much he berated himself. His gut churned and sweat trickled down the back of his neck. With every step he took it felt like the world was closing in on him. Every one of his senses was under assault.

He tried to concentrate on breathing through his mouth so as to lessen the impact of a stench so powerful he could virtually taste it.

He tried to tune out the sounds of the motel and instead pick out the sounds of the city.

He tried to focus on the back of Stiles head and not the familiar décor.

It didn't work, he could feel the panic rising, his heart pounding. Unusually, Stiles hadn't noticed, he was still lost in his own thoughts, had been ever since Derek's revelation about Scott at the diner.

By the time Stiles opened the door to their room, Derek's head was spinning. He reached out a hand to steady himself against the door frame as he took in the room.

The layout of the room, the soft furnishings, the sickly jumble of scents, the abstract artwork on the walls and the smell of cheap abrasive cleaning products, it was all horribly familiar.

He could almost hear her husky laugh, feel her soft blonde hair tickling his chin as she moved down his body, taking what she wanted while he inexpertly tried to reciprocate.

He used to worry about that. Feel so self conscious about whether he would be _good_ enough for her.

She had known it too, he knew that now. She had played on it.

She would sometimes whisper into his ear as they fucked, “Oh... honey,” with an edge of mocking reproach in her voice. Or “Well, I suppose you tried your best,” or “Maybe you'll do better next time... I guess.”

She'd shake her head at him, with a pout and he'd die a little inside. Too confused and lovesick to think straight, only knowing he wanted to make her happy.

He knew his relationships with women since then had been filtered through the lens of Kate.

He'd go out and attempt to hook-up with women at clubs occasionally, to try and prove to himself that Kate hadn't broken him.

He'd never brought a woman home though, never even told them his real name. In that respect he had followed the example Kate had set for him.

It hadn't really worked for him.

The smell of their perfume had made his skin crawl.

He hadn't been able to do it, couldn't even get it up half the time.

He felt sick to the pit of his stomach when a woman touched him. So he'd make his excuses run home and shower to purge himself of their scent, of the touch of their hands on his skin.

All the while hating himself for being so fucking broken, hating himself for letting Kate win.

That was until Jennifer had come along. There had been something so sweet, so vulnerable about her and she'd known he was a werewolf and hadn't rejected him. She had seemed the antithesis of Kate, and he had felt for the first time in ages that he had found someone that _saw_ him, that _cared_ for him, and that he in turn could cherish.

For the first time in years he felt that he might be able to do this. To have a functional adult relationship with an equal.

He'd forced himself to allow her into his loft, into his bed, into his life. Made himself do it because not every woman was Kate. His mind knew it and he wanted to prove that to himself. Still, it had been so easy to accept when Stiles and Scott had turned up on his doorstep to tell him Jennifer was the Darach. He was colossally fucked up, all of his instincts about relationships were wrong. Her betrayal had been inevitable, and he could only accept it with grim resignation.

He exhaled a shaky breath and followed Stiles into the motel room closing the door behind them carefully. As he looked down he realized his hands were still trembling and he rammed them into his pockets before Stiles could notice.

 _Stop being so fucking broken._ He chastised himself angrily . _It's Stiles. You can trust Stiles. It's just a fucking motel room. Get over it._ _Stop being so_ **fucking** _weak._ _Stiles is a friend, he's not expecting sex._

The thing was, if Kate hadn't... If he wasn't so _completely_ damaged, things might be different between him and Stiles. It was something he'd been vaguely aware of for a while and there were times when he wondered if Stiles might feel the same way. In truth, Derek had never been allowed space to explore his sexuality. Instead, since Kate he'd approached it like he did everything else post-fire, angrily trying to subdue it, to control it, to force himself to be _normal_ _._ Now he realized he didn't even know what normal was.

“Derek. Are you okay?”

He'd been freaking out so much he hadn't noticed that Stiles was now sitting on one of the motel beds, looking at him with concern. “You look _really_ pale.”

Derek realized he was standing stiffly with his fists clenched in his pocket. His claws, fully extended, dug painfully into his palms. He took his hands out to look at them in a daze, retracting the claws slowly.

“Oh my God! Derek” Stiles exclaimed spotting the blood dripping from his hands immediately. He reached out to grasp them for a closer look.

“It's nothing.” Derek replied dismissively, shaking Stiles free. “Forget it.” The marks were already healing. If only the rest of him could be fixed as easily.

He turned abruptly and fled into their bathroom, leaving Stiles standing confused and worried in the middle of the bedroom floor.

He gripped the sink and tried to get a hold on himself. It wasn't working. He could almost feel her touch, hear her whispering in his ear, smell her perfume. The shadow of her infected everything. He shook violently unable to stop it.

For the first time he noticed the drip, drip, drip of water hitting his forearm. He was crying and he hadn't even realized it.

His stomach churned and he wheeled round and crouched over the toilet. He retched again and again, unable to stop himself.

He brought up the wings, the fries and the soft drink, holding on to the bowl to steady himself.

Dimly he was aware of Stiles calling his name. Asking if he was all right.

He couldn't answer. When all he could bring up was bile, he sank to the floor, his whole body trembling with exertion. He rested his head on his knees.

There was a crash and Stiles spilled into the room. He had overestimated the force needed to open a door that Derek hadn't bothered to lock.

Stiles staggered and righted himself. His nose crinkled in disgust as he smelled the vomit but changed swiftly to concern when he saw Derek hunched on the floor. He crouched down next to him.

“Derek?” he said cautiously. “ What's wrong?”

Derek didn't answer, he didn't have the words.

“Is it food poisoning?” Stiles said uncertainly.

Derek shook his head mutely and scrubbed his hands through his hair.

Stiles waited a moment and when Derek didn't offer any more information he said. “I'll get you some water. Okay?”

He disappeared and came back a few seconds later with a bottle of water from his back pack. “It's a little warm.” he said apologetically handing it to Derek. He stood there a moment shifting from foot to foot uncertainly. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Derek shrugged. He wasn't able to speak yet. He didn't even know how to start explaining this to Stiles. He shuffled to the side to make room for Stiles, and Stiles seemed to understand.

He lowered himself down gingerly, and sat next to Derek in silence, while Derek tried to work out how to explain himself. It was impossible. He couldn't begin to speak round the burning lump in his throat.

“You don't have to tell me.” Stiles said quietly. “Whatever it is, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

Somehow, being given permission _not_ to talk made it a little easier.

There was no pressure.

It was probable that Stiles would understand. Not the whole sex thing, but he knew what it was like to carry a burden, to feel immense guilt for something, even if you knew logically it wasn't your fault. He understood what it was to lose a close family member and he understood what it was to be used as instrument to hurt the people you loved most.

They had a lot of things in common really. A lot of really heartbreaking, shitty things.

Derek rubbed furiously at his eyes before finally forcing himself to say.“Kate used to bring me to a Macarthy's Roadhouse just outside Beacon Hills. When I was sixteen. So we could...” he paused, willing himself to go on. “I haven't really been back to one since... I hadn't thought about how it would be. I'm... sorry. I didn't know I would be like this...” he trailed off.

Stiles paused taking in what Derek said, and for a moment Derek regretted saying anything.

“You don't have to apologize.” Stiles said firmly. “You _never_ have to apologize to me or anyone else about this.” He reached out his hand and tentatively linked his fingers through Derek's, carefully, like he was giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. “We can leave.” Stiles said sincerely. “We can go back home right now if you want.”

It was comforting, just the simple act of holding hands without the weight of something more attached to it. Derek squeezed his hand gratefully. “It's all so familiar, the room, the layout, the smell and when I walked in, it was like I was back there you know?”

Stiles nodded thoughtfully before saying. “When my Mom was in hospital, one of her friends brought her in this fancy soap, it was scented like lavender and my Mom used it the whole time she was there. Right up until...” He trailed off. “Five years later I was a house party and I went up to use the bathroom. They had that same soap. As soon as I picked it up and the smell hit me it was like I was back in the hospital watching my Mom slowly slip away.” he smiled ruefully. “I had a panic attack in the bathroom and had to be driven home. I know it's not the same but... I kinda get it.”

Derek exhaled slowly. “I don't know what to do. We need to stay and try to find out more information. But...” he trailed off.

Stiles shrugged. “We could find a room somewhere else?” He suggested. “Do you think if we went somewhere different it would help?”

Derek shrugged. “I- I don't _want_ to be like this.” He admitted bitterly. “ I don't _want_ this to be an issue for me. I want to face it and just fucking get over it. I want to stop being so weak. Perhaps we should stay and I'll just make myself...”

“No.” Stiles said abruptly . “No. There's nothing to prove here Derek. Not to me and not to yourself. You're not going to gain anything by forcing yourself to stay here. So don't even try. We've not even unpacked. Let's get back in the car and then we'll have a look _together_ for somewhere that will be all right for you.” He rested his head on Derek's shoulder and gripped his hand hard. “You're not weak.” He said firmly. “That isn't... you're one of the strongest people I know Derek. Look how much you've been through and you're still trying to do the right thing. That's not weakness.”

Derek turned his head a little and ended up with his nose buried in Stiles hair. He smelt of shampoo and sweat and something indefinably Stiles. It was safe and warm. It was home. He breathed in deeply letting it soak into him. It took him a moment to realize that Stiles had stiffened under his attentions.

“Sorry.” Derek muttered. “Your scent... it helps with the...” He blushed unable to finish the sentence.

Stiles lifted his head up, his heart was beating wildly in his chest, but he said firmly. “It's okay. If it helps. I don't mind.”

 

o0o

 

  
They didn't sit for long. Stiles insisted on getting him up and moving him out and it didn't really take much encouragement. Soon they were sitting back in the car and Stiles was leaning across to show Derek the various hotel options on his phone.

“We don't want to pay too much.” Stiles said as he scrolled through picture after picture. “However I'm thinking it might be best to avoid motels all together.

Derek shrugged non-committally, but was secretly glad. “What about that one?” he said eventually.

“The St. Regis?” Stiles said doubtfully. “I think it's quite expensive.”

“I'm paying.” Derek said. “I can afford it.” he felt guilty and exposed, and he just wanted to do something to try and fix it.

“Well... yeah but...”

“That's the one.” Derek said firmly.

Stiles looked at him searchingly. “If you want.” he said finally.

Stiles navigated and before long they found the hotel and were installed in a suite with spectacular views out over the city. The furniture was modern and whilst Derek was never really going to enjoy staying in a hotel at least this place felt less skeevy. The cleaning products they used here were better, less abrasive against his nose too.

Stiles wandered around in awe. “This is the classiest place I have ever stayed in. Ever.” He said finally stopping at one of the big windows that showed twinkling streetlights spread out over the city in every direction.

Derek shrugged a little embarrassed. The knot of anxiety had loosened since leaving the motel but he still felt raw. He didn't really know what to say. The last time he had tried to talk about Kate with anyone it had been Laura.

He caught Stiles looking at him intently and was relieved when he didn't ask how he was. It wasn't a question he had the answer for right now.

“You should have the bed.” Stiles said eventually. “I can take the couch.” he gestured at the wide grey couch.

Derek started to protest. “I can take the...”

“No Derek.” Stiles said firmly. “Bed.” He pointed at the bed.

Derek shook his head but there didn't seem to be much point in arguing.

They stripped down to their underwear, not having brought any pajamas. The hotel had been able to provide them each with a toothbrush and some toothpaste though. So there was that.

Derek's mind was buzzing and he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep even though he needed to. He sank down into the enormous soft king-size mattress, and watched from under his lashes as Stiles pottered about creating a little nest on the couch out of spare blankets and pillows. There was something sweet about it, oddly domestic. Eventually Stiles seemed satisfied and asked. “Can I turn the light off?”

Derek nodded curtly. Stiles switched it off and then scuttled back across the room and into the little nest he'd created. He burrowed under it and made a satisfied noise. Derek sighed, his own pillow smelled clean at least, but unfamiliar. Everything in this room was unfamiliar, and despite himself he could feel anxiety building again. His mind refused to settle and he tossed and turned restlessly. He needed something to anchor him, to calm his mind after all that had happened. He sighed and turned again, finally sitting up a little to rearrange the pillows.

“Are you okay?” Stiles whispered loudly.

“Why are you whispering?” Derek said.

“It's night time. It's dark. People might be asleep.” Stiles replied.

“We're the only two people in the room and we're both awake.” Derek pointed out.

Stiles chose to ignore this. “Is the bed uncomfortable?” He asked in a low voice.

Derek sighed and let his head thud back into the enormous pillow. “No.” he paused. “It's good. I'm just... finding it hard to settle after earlier. Nothing smells right either, it doesn't smell bad, just not right.”

Stiles made a concerned noise in the back of his throat and sat up a little. “Is there anything I can do?”

Derek shrugged, “I don't think so.” he admitted.

He could see Stiles agitating his low lip with his teeth, even without the lights on. He seemed to be working his way up to say something.

“What is it Stiles?” Derek said finally, beginning to get irritated.

“Nothing! I just. Well.” he paused and seemed to check himself. “If this is too weird then just say but would you... earlier back in the other place my scent seemed to help. Would it help if you had like a t-shirt of mine or something?” he sounded uncertain and Derek could almost hear the blush in his voice.

Derek lay there for a second, unwilling to reply. It felt like it would mean something if he went to bed holding Stiles T-shirt like a comfort blanket. Something that he wasn't quite ready to acknowledge to himself yet.

“Forget I said it...” Stiles said in a rush.

“No.” Derek said quickly. “No. You're right. I think it might help.”

Stiles nodded and got up. He switched on a lamp and rustled around before bringing his t-shirt over to Derek. “It's a bit sweaty I'm afraid,” He said a blush staining his cheeks. “It probably won't be very pleasant.”

Derek reached out his hand and took it. “It's fine.” He said. “It'll be fine."

Stiles nodded. There was that strange bittersweet scent on him. One that signalled a conflict of emotions that Derek couldn't quite begin to unpick. He looked at Stiles retreating form curiously. Stiles glanced back and gave him a small, nervous smile. “Night Derek.”

“Night” Derek replied as the light went out.

He turned to one side and buried his nose into the old t-shirt, with that familiar soothing scent. He felt the knot in his stomach begin to unravel. Within ten minutes he had drifted off to sleep.

 

o0o

 

Stiles didn't talk about the events of the previous night when they woke up next morning. Sometimes Derek would see him looking over at him, and he could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn't and Derek was very grateful. In the cold light of day last night felt almost like a dream. He couldn't believe he had experienced such a visceral reaction just from visiting a motel that reminded him of Kate. He almost felt like a recovering addict who had experienced a relapse.

Stiles seemed to get that Derek wasn't ready to talk about things and he filled the silences with chatter that acted like a balm on Derek's battered soul. Stiles didn't ask, didn't push, and although at times Derek could feel the weight of concern in his gaze, he had said nothing. It was a level of self restraint that Derek hadn't previously associated with Stiles and he was grateful for it.

They had an amazing breakfast at the hotel before checking out and driving back across to the library.

Alice opened the door to them this time smiling broadly at Derek. “You're back!” She exclaimed happily standing to the side a little to let them in.

“Couldn't stay away.” Stiles replied flippantly, making his way in.

Alice flashed a grin at him as he passed her but, when she turned to Derek she smiled widely and he could smell the sweet, cloying scent of lust clinging to her as she looked at him.

“Hi.” she said, a little breathlessly. “It's great to have you back.”

“Thanks.” Derek replied stiltedly. After the events of last night this was the last thing he felt equipped to deal with.

She took a step forward into his personal space and looked up at him through her lashes. Derek's heart sank into his boots and his stomach roiled. “I know we don't really know each other, but I was just wondering if maybe we could-” she began. She didn't get to finish.

“Hey Babe!” Stiles said appearing magically at his elbow. “Are you coming?” he slung his arm possessively round Derek's shoulder and grinned at Alice with hard eyes and all his teeth.

She flushed stepping back in consternation. “Oh my God. Sorry. I didn't realize you two were...” Her eyes flicked between them. “I'm so sorry.” She repeated again flustered.

Derek felt relief flood him and he sagged a little against Stiles.

Stiles smiled, a little more softly this time. “It's okay.” He said. “I can hardly blame you for trying, it's not like you knew, but yeah... we are.”

She gulped and nodded, before turning to lead them through the corridor and back downstairs to the basement. As soon as her back was turned Stiles dropped his arm from Derek's shoulders and flushed. “Sorry” He mouthed silently at him.

Derek smiled weakly back. “It's fine.” he said quietly.

They followed her and before long they were settled down again at the comfortable table in the corner of the library.

Stiles waited until Alice had closed the door and had had time to walk away before saying “Oh my God dude. I'm sorry. I had no right. I don't know what came over me. It's just you looked so uncomfortable and after what happened-"

“It's fine Stiles. I didn't mind.” Derek reassured him. “This once? I'm glad you did it.”

Stiles stopped and grinned at him a little uncertainly. “Yeah?”

Derek nodded firmly. “Yeah. Normally I can handle that, but today it was nice to have some help.”

Stiles looked thoughtful and then nodded. “Okay." he said finally. "I mean I won't make a habit of it or anything, but I'm glad you don't feel like I overstepped."

Derek gave him a small smile and Stiles let the subject drop.

 

o0o

 

They researched for hours, combing through every book they could find. Finally it was Stiles who exclaimed. “Motherfucker!” Under his breath.

“Find something?” Derek asked.

“I think so.” Stiles shuffled his chair over so he was sitting next to Derek and dragged the book where they could both read it.

“I wanted to see if I could find anything about the runes we found on the preserve or the urn. I feel like the urn is key here because it was so powerful when I touched it, and also because the demon wanted it back. That's why it attacked me in the first place.” He paused and pointed at a paragraph in the book.

“ _A Man alone cannot host Fallen. Their power too great to be held in so frail and imperfect a vessel. The burden must be shared lest the Man crumble to ash, consumed by the flame within. Fight fire with fire.”_

“What do you think it means?” Derek asked.

“I'm not sure,” Stiles said, “but I thought it could mean that maybe the urn was like a focus object. That some of Legion's power was contained in that maybe?” He looked uncertain. “What do you think?”

“It's as good an idea as any.” Derek admitted. “I mean that urn was clearly important to it. It was destroyed in the cave though. Should that mean that the demon is weaker?”

Stiles looked worried. “It's moved on to possessing Scott. A normal human might not be able to handle being possessed by the Fallen in the long term, but an Alpha werewolf?" 

Derek paled. “I don't know. From what we read yesterday it attaches itself to the mind, the soul of a person. I don't know whether that means that Scott would be more able to survive it or not.”

“ _Fight fire with fire_.” Stiles mumbled under his breath. “I don't know what that's supposed to mean.”

“We need more information.” Derek said firmly. “There has to be more information about the Fallen. There has to be something.”

Stiles sighed, “I know. It's just it's so frustrating and there's so much written about demons and so little is specific to what we want.” he smelled defeated and it make Derek's heart ache a little.

“We could take a break. Get some lunch and come back to it.” he suggested.

Stiles smiled weakly. “I guess.” He said.

They closed their books and headed upstairs. As they came into the corridor Derek's phone began to vibrate. He pulled it out to take a look. He had a missed call from Chris Argent. Stiles looked over curiously.

“Chris.” Derek said. “I should probably call him back.”

Stiles nodded in understanding. At that moment, the elderly woman who had let them in on their first visit appeared out of a room to the left. She gestured at Stiles. “A word with you young man.” She said in her reedy voice. Stiles nodded and went over to chat with her.

Derek took the opportunity to duck out the front door and call Chris. The man picked up almost immediately.

“Derek.” Chris said tersely as he picked up.

“You got my message then.” Derek asked.

“Yes. I'm on my way back to Beacon Hills to help, should be there by tomorrow.”

“We've been researching it as best we can.” Derek said.

“We?” Chris asked.

“Stiles and I.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the phone. “Okay. What have you found.”

“We've worked out that Legion is one of the Fallen and we think we know where he is.”

Chris exhaled. “I don't know much about the Fallen.” He admitted, “but I have a good idea who might. I have some contacts. Lets meet up tomorrow at your loft. You, me and Stiles. Say 2 pm?”

“Stiles will be in school.”

“Well that will give us a chance to have a little chat first. He can come straight on after.” Chris replied.

“Fair enough.”

“Tomorrow then.” The phone went dead.

Stiles appeared then on the doorstep, he looked a little pale and his scent smelled sour, but when he saw Derek he smiled widely. It didn't quite reach his eyes.

“How's Chris?” He asked bright and brittle.

“He wants to meet up tomorrow and pool information. Thinks he has some contacts that might be able to give us more information.” Derek said. “He asked if you would come over to the loft after school tomorrow.

Stiles nodded distractedly. “I can do that.” he said.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked curiously. “What did she want?”

“Her? Nothing. Just reminding me that we needed to put the books back and _always to use the gloves_ because our fingers have destructive oils.” He grinned up at Derek.

He was lying. Derek could tell by the skip in his heart beat and the way he was making too much eye contact. He wanted to be believed.

“If you say so.” Derek said finally.

Stiles grimaced but didn't elaborate or admit the deceit. He simply turned and made his way to the car.

 

o0o  
  
  
  
  
  
**Hey guys. Lots of Derek feels in this chapter. Hopefully I handled it okay. Let me know if there are any mistakes or errors or I should tag for anything I haven't.**  
  
**I seem to have real issues with AO3 adding spaces inbetween letters that aren't there in the original copy of the work and it's getting on my nerves, but still.**  
  
**If you liked it or didn't then let me know. I like to receive kudos and comments and even concrit, because it helps me improve my writing and gives me motivation to write more :-)**

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris Argent arrives. Derek and Stiles return to Beacon Hills and make a terrible discovery.

They didn't arrive back in Beacon Hills until about 10pm on the Sunday evening. Information about the Fallen had been sparse, and they hadn't managed to find out nearly as much as they needed to. There were plenty of references to a demon that could be Legion, both in the library and in the stuff the Grove had e-mailed Stiles. The thing was, none of those sources explained how to defeat it.

Stiles seemed especially tense now, and had been ever since the elderly woman at the library pulled him aside for a chat. Derek regretted that he'd been on the phone to Chris, otherwise he might have been party to the conversation. Stiles didn't seem anxious to share what had been said though and Derek wouldn't push him. Stiles would talk if and when he was ready to.

Derek dropped Stiles back at his house, before starting to make his way back to his own apartment. He was tired, and he genuinely wanted to relax, maybe have a bath and read a book. Anything that was emphatically _not_ demon related.

He should have known that was asking for too much.

He was surprised when he saw the lights from a police cruiser in his rear window, and even more surprised when the cruiser signaled for him to pull over. He parked at the side of the road in confusion, and watched as the Sheriff got out of the car and walked over with a stern expression.

“Is there a problem John?” Derek asked as he wound down his window.

The Sheriff's mouth twisted in a grim approximation of a smile. “Get out of the car for me please _Mr. Hale._ ”

Something in the Sheriff's tone, in his manner, in the faint hint of threat that seemed to permeate those words seemed familiar. Derek's stomach sank. Something wasn't right, but he had no choice but to obey. Reluctantly, he got out of his car.

“What's going on?” he asked, apprehension coiling in his gut.

“Did you know your tail light is broken?” the Sheriff replied, gesturing to the back of the car.

“It is?” Derek said in confusion. He was sure he or Stiles would have noticed that. He wandered round to the back of the car to take a look. Both lights seemed fine. “I think you've made a mist-” He began to say.

Before he could finish, the Sheriff shattered the left tail light with one precise jab of his night stick. Glass lay splintered across the road, glinting in the light from the street lamp. Derek's jaw clenched.

“No mistake _Mr._ Hale.” the Sheriff said with an eerie calm. He cocked his head to the side, almost bird like and smiled. It was that gesture, that movement with his head, that gave Derek a strange sense of dejavu. In a rush it came to him. Scott had done the same thing the other day in the apartment, as he had casually discussed sending Stiles back to Eichen house. Instinctively, Derek took a step back.

“I'll sort it.” he said barely able to keep the tremor out of his voice. “Thanks for... pointing it out.”

He backed up to the driver side door, careful to keep a good distance between himself and the Sheriff. His heart drummed loudly in his chest, blood roared through his ears.

“One more thing Mr. Hale.” the Sheriff said coldly.

Derek grasped intuitively for the door handle and opened it. “What's that?” he asked.

“You've been spending time with my son. You must have realized by now he's a _very_ sick boy. It's heartbreaking really, but in that respect, unfortunately, he's taken after his mother. Nightmares, mental illness, paranoia.”

“That must be very hard for you to deal with.” Derek ground out.

“It has been difficult. What he needs at the moment though, are people who are going to help him _face_ reality, not indulge him in the twisted fears of his fevered imagination.” the Sheriff stepped forward with an ugly smile. “So, with that in mind, I'm going to make this as clear as possible to you. Stay _the fuck_ away from my son. Do we understand each other?”

Derek blinked and nodded. The Sheriff smiled wide and menacing, and just for a second Derek swore he could see row upon row of needle like teeth.

He scrambled into the car and slammed the door behind him. His hands shaking as he started the car and pulled away. He couldn't help glancing into the rear view mirror at the Sheriff, who stood there with his arms crossed watching him leave, a sneer of satisfaction contorting his face.

It wasn't really the Sheriff. Derek was sure of that. There was no trace of the man who, only yesterday morning, had seemed so kind and reassuring. That man had offered him a job. That man's fatherly demeanor had reminded him forcibly of his own father.

There was nothing of that man left now.

This was Legion.

The Sheriff had been compromised and he had to warn Stiles.

 

o0o

 

Derek sped home, sprinted up the stairs to his apartment and immediately dialled Stiles number. It rang and rang for ages, and with each ring Derek felt panic mounting in his chest. Eventually though Stiles picked up, just as Derek was expecting to go to voicemail.

“Derek?” Stiles said, sounding confused. “Are you okay? Did I leave something in your car?”

“No. It's nothing like that. It's your Dad.” he said abruptly.

“My Dad? What about him?” the panic in Stiles tone was immediate.

“He just pulled me over on the way home. Except, it wasn't him, not really. I think it was Legion.” Derek paused, worried for one moment that Stiles wouldn't believe him.

Stiles gasped, and even over the phone Derek could hear the sound of his heartbeat going crazy. “It can't- What? Are you sure?” Stiles asked frantically.

“Pretty sure. he broke my tail light deliberately, and then warned me to stay the fuck away from you. Those were his exact words. The way he moved, the way he acted, it was like watching Scott the other day. I know it wasn't really your Dad in control. I'm sure of it.” Derek replied.

“Shit!” Stiles breathed. “Shit! What are we going to do? What are-” there was a pause and the faint sound of a rustling curtain. “Oh God. My Dad's cruiser just pulled around the corner. What do I do Derek? What do I do?”

Derek saw one thing with sudden and awful clarity. Legion didn't want Stiles around for some reason. Legion as Scott had tried to convince him that Stiles should be admitted back to Eichen House. Legion as the Sheriff would actually have a chance of enforcing that, of making life very difficult for _both_ of them.

“Leave through the back.” he hissed into the phone. “Grab what you can and leave. Don't let him see you, don't let him hear you. Just _run_. I'll jump in the car and come pick you up. There's a convenience store a couple of blocks over from your house on Maple. Meet me round the back okay? Don't be _seen_ though Stiles. _Don't let him see you_ _leave_."

“Okay.” Stiles breathed. “See you in ten.” He hung up.

Derek moved swiftly. He grabbed his wallet, phone, keys and stuffed a change of clothes into a small duffel bag. Then he ran as quickly as he could back to his car.

 

 

o0o

 

 

Derek peeled into the convenience store parking lot and his heart sank at first when he couldn't see Stiles. He leapt out of the car, worry coiling low in his gut. As he inhaled he caught Stiles scent, sour with anxiety, he tuned in his hearing and could pick out the familiar trip of Stiles heartbeat. Relief coursed through him immediately, and he followed his nose round the back of the convenience store. He nearly tripped over Stiles, who was crouched down with his back against the wall.

“Are you okay? Did he follow you?” Derek asked urgently.

Stiles swiped at his eyes furiously. “No. I don't think so. I just grabbed what I could and jumped over the back fence. I-” His voice cracked. “My _Dad_ man. First _Scott_ and now my _Dad._ ” He buried his face in his hands and his shoulders shook.

Derek crouched down next to him, and reached out a tentative hand. “Hey. We're going to make it through this okay? We're going to sort this together. I promise.”

Stiles almost collapsed into him, hugging him fiercely, and Derek nearly overbalanced trying to reciprocate.

“Sorry.” Stiles said wetly. “I just... I can't... I can't do this. I can't...”

“Can't lose anyone else?” Derek said thickly. “I get it. Trust me.”

Stiles clung to him. Derek buried his head into the crook of Stiles neck and inhaled deeply. He was going to fix this. He was going to make this better for Stiles, for Scott, for the Sheriff, for everyone who made up this little ragtag pack that had become so important to him so quickly. He couldn't do it from here though.

“We should get going.” Derek said eventually, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on Stiles and standing up. “We can't stay here.”

“Back to yours?” Stiles asked, standing a little shakily and brushing himself down.

Derek shook his head. “No. Legion clearly realizes we're working together. He knows where I live. I think we need to find somewhere else.”

“I can call Scott.” Stiles said, getting out his phone. “If Legion is possessing my Dad now, then Scott should be back on our side. Right?”

Derek reached out a hand to stop him. “We shouldn't assume anything, and besides Scott's is an obvious place for your Dad to look. We need somewhere else. Someone he won't immediately think of.”

“Like where?” Stiles asked.

Derek got his phone out and thumbed through the meagre contact list. “Chris Argent?” He suggested. “He's supposed to be back tonight and he's meeting us tomorrow anyway. Besides he knows all about our Legion problem.”

Stiles paled anxiously. “I'm not sure he'll want to see me.”

Derek sighed. “Just this afternoon you agreed to meet him at my house tomorrow. What's changed since then Stiles?”

“I was distracted when I agreed to that.” Stiles admitted honestly. “I wasn't really thinking about what it would be like to see him after Allison. I had other things on my mind.” He tailed of hopelessly. “You're right though. Nobody is going to expect us to hide out at the Argent place.”

Derek nodded. “Get in the car and I'll call him. We can't keep waiting here.”

 

o0o

 

He managed to get through to Chris on his third attempt and was relieved when he agreed to let them hide out at his house. Chris had already arrived back and when they pulled into his driveway he was there waiting for them. He'd even made room in his garage for Derek's car.

After they had parked and concealed the car in the garage under a tarpaulin, Chris ushered them through into the main house. It was a big house and now virtually empty. Derek was struck by the ironies of life. Here was Chris, who had arrived in Beacon Hills over a year ago as part of a family, a hunting dynasty no less. Now that family was completely decimated, his wife, daughter, sister and father-in-law all gone. Derek had more family left to him now then Chris did, and despite everything that had happened between their two families, he felt a pang of sympathy for the man.

Beside him he could feel Stiles twitching nervously, the acrid scent of guilt and worry pouring off him in waves.

Chris didn't seemed to notice this though. Instead, he walked them upstairs to his study and sat behind a large desk. He stared at them intently for a while, before speaking. “How much do you know?” He asked.

If Derek had been expecting Stiles to answer that question he was disappointed. Stiles looked pale and unhappy, and for once he didn't seemed to be in a rush to talk at all.

“We know a bit.” Derek admitted finally. “Legion is one of the Fallen. He's been around for a while, we've found references to him in lots of different ancient texts; although not much on how to get rid of him. We did find one passage though which said something about one man not being enough to contain him.” He shrugged.

“ _A Man alone cannot host Fallen. Their power too great to be held in so frail and imperfect a vessel. The burden must be shared lest the Man crumble to ash, consumed by the flame within. Fight fire with fire.”_ Stiles said dully. “I wrote it down and memorised it.” he shrugged disconsolately, before saying. “I did wonder if the urn I broke back at the start of this had some significance? Like a sort of focus item or something?”

Chris sighed deeply, looking pensive. “You've done quite well and you're partially right.” he said. “The Fallen are an ancient race of demons. Legend has it they're actually fallen angels. Hence the name. Cast out of heaven they were cursed forever to feed on the souls of humanity. They possess someone, and drain the hosts life essence slowly like a parasite. If they stay in possession long enough they can drain them to nothing. Ash is supposedly all that remains. Like the host has been consumed by fire from the inside.”

“We read about that I think.” Stiles said. “In some of the material the Grove sent me. There's something almost vampiric about them.”

Chris nodded. “In a sense. Not much is known about them really, they are, fortunately, quite rare. I have been talking with one of the few experts in the field though and he's been educating me.” he stood up and started to pace the room in agitation.

“Not all human beings are created equal in the eyes of the Fallen.” He began. “They move between hosts constantly looking for a set of people that fulfil a specific criteria. That behaviour explains the activity we saw when Legion first came to Beacon Hills, which we initially mistook for the Adhene. In reality Legion was luring people out and trying them on for size to see if they were a good fit, discarding them with no memory if they didn't work out.”

“What's it looking for?” Derek asked.

“The pure in heart. Those of integrity and character. Apparently they provide a more... long-lasting and nourishing meal. Or so I've been told.”

Stiles sank into a nearby chair and seemed to shrink in on himself. “It's let go of Scott and taken my Dad.” He muttered under his breath.

“Actually it's probably still controlling Scott as well.” Chris admitted.

Derek looked across at him. “You're saying it can possess more then one person at once?” He said sharply. “How is that possible?”

“As Stiles said 'The burden must be shared.' Besides the clue is in the name of the demon itself. Legion."

Stiles glanced across at Derek. "You pointed that out, when we first started researching this." He said. 

Derek shrugged. "Obviously we didn't take the idea far enough." He said.

Chris continued. "The best guess seems to be that Legion was using the urn as a repository for some of his power."

“ A bit like Sauron and the One ring?” Stiles mused.

“It seems to have allowed it to possess less ideal hosts for longer. Which in turn enabled it to familiarize itself with Beacon Hills and find hosts who would be a good fit.” Chris added.

“I broke the urn. I forced Legion's hand, and then when it got the chance in the aftermath of my car accident it possessed Scott.” Stiles said, his scent was bitter and unhappy.

“Scott is a good candidate for Legion.” Chris admitted. “Anyone with the strength of character to become a True Alpha would definitely make a good primary host.”

“How many people can it possess at once?” Derek asked curiously. “I mean there has to be some kind of limit or wouldn't everybody be... under demonic influence?”

“As far as we can tell. Three at any one time. A primary, secondary and tertiary host.”

“So if it's got my Dad and Scott who's the third host?” Stiles asked. “If the urn is broken, there's no repository left to store it's power in, so presumably it needs three hosts right?"

Chris shrugged. “We can't be sure until it reveals itself.”

Derek felt a thin trickle of fear run down his spine. He shuddered involuntarily. “Deaton.” he said softly. “Stiles, you said that Deaton convinced you to go to the preserve and then when you arrived...”

“ Legion was waiting for me” Stiles finished for him. “At first I thought it was just some weird guy, but then it shifted to take Deaton's form, before changing again into it's true form.”

“The first form it took when it first approached you after Deaton had sent you out there,” Chris said. “What did that look like?”

“A guy, white, in his twenties, kind of scrawny, he looked a bit... dirty to be honest. Almost like he'd been sleeping rough.”

“There was a sleeping bag back in that cave where we found the urn.” Derek remembered suddenly. “Maybe the original host was sleeping rough in the preserve.”

"So, Legion had possessed this guy, then Deaton at some point,  _then_ Scott and then my Dad." Stiles said slowly.

“We may never know the exact order of possession for sure. As you know, victims of possession are often not even aware they _are_ possessed. They may experience memory blackouts. There will be times when you speak to them, and no sign of possession is apparent.” Chris said.

Stiles shifted uncomfortably at this. He looked like he wanted to be sick. Instinctively Derek moved toward him and put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Stiles glanced at him and leaned into Derek's touch with a grateful smile. Derek's heart fluttered in his chest.

Chris cleared his throat and continued. “The rough sleeper, if that's what he was, was probably completely destroyed when Legion finally manifested in it's true form. For now though we should go with what we know. It looks like Legion has found a primary, secondary and tertiary host. We know who they are, we have to exorcise the hosts and destroy the demon.”

“You make it sound easy.” Derek said feeling irritated. He released Stiles shoulder and stepped forward. “It's chosen hosts are an emissary, an alpha werewolf and the head of local law enforcement.”

“It doesn't matter.” Chris said simply. “At the moment we have to stop thinking of them in those terms. We have to start thinking of viable solutions or we are going to lose control of this town to an ancient demon.”

“Their positions in real life give them a massive advantage over us.” Derek argued, “Tonight, Legion as the Sheriff _deliberately_ damaged my car and threatened me and Stiles, Scott is one of the strongest Alpha's in living memory, Deaton possesses knowledge and resources that make it very diffic-”

“I know how to do it.” Stiles said standing suddenly. He looked pale but determined. “I know what we need to do and I know someone who can help us do it. We just need to find a way to get them all together.”

Derek turned to stare at him incredulously.

“Care to elaborate?” Chris asked skeptically.

Stiles exhaled shakily and glance between the two of them. “No. Not really. I know it's asking a lot but you'll just have to trust me.”

 

o0o

 

Neither Chris nor Derek were happy with Stiles reluctance to share what he knew, but despite pressure from both of them Stiles remained resolute that now wasn't the right time. In the end there wasn't much for it but to go to bed. Derek had ended up in a guest room that had once been used by Gerard Argent. Faint traces of the old man's stale scent lingered on the soft furnishings. It set Derek's teeth on edge. Worse though, was when he realized that he could catch the slightest traces of Kate's scent in the room. It had been overlaid with other. more recent guests, but it was there. That scent was burned on his brain and he could of picked it out anywhere.

He was never going to be able to sleep in this room.

Chris was still in his study, working. Derek was a bit hazy about exactly _how_ Chris made money being a hunter. It didn't seem like a particularly lucrative line of work, and yet it must pay fairly well because evidence of financial affluence was all around him.

Wealth made from hunting and killing werewolves. That thought made him feel even more unsettled.

He could feel his palms beginning to sweat.

It had been a bad idea to come here. Where else could they have gone though?

He paced the room in agitation.

He needed to get out of here, away from the scent of these people, these ghosts from his past and the memories they evoked. It was too much.

Quietly he opened the door and made his way downstairs. Stiles was in a makeshift bed on the couch. He had insisted Derek take the bed. _Again._

Derek padded softly into the kitchen. He didn't need to put a light on, he was more then capable of seeing in the dark.

He opened up the kitchen cupboards until he found one containing glassware, and then poured himself a drink of water.

This house was a ghost town. No wonder Chris was hardly ever in it any more.

The hallway light flickered on, and Derek looked up sharply.

Stiles stood silhouetted in the doorway. He looked exhausted and pale. Clearly Derek had not been the only one unable to sleep.

“Hey!” Stiles said softly, padding into the kitchen. “Whatcha doing?”

“Water.” Derek responded gruffly.

“Might get one of those myself.” Stiles said lightly. He wandered past him, yawning loudly, his hair looking rumpled and soft where he had been lying down. Derek felt something swoop low in his stomach, and he turned away abruptly, his shoulders tense.

He could hear Stiles shuffling about behind him, looking for a glass.

“Uh? Where are the glasses big guy?” Stiles asked yawning again. “Not all of us can see in such a dim light.”

Derek gestured to the cupboard next to his head without turning. He didn't want to look at Stiles right now. He didn't want to _want_ him.

He could feel him though. Feel the heat seeping off him and that warm comforting scent that was becoming so painfully familiar. It was overlaid with sadness at the moment, and that made Derek's heart clench in his chest.

He closed his eyes. He could hear Stiles turn the tap on and fill the glass with water. Then silence.

“Are you okay Derek?” Stiles asked quietly coming to stand achingly close to him. “It can't be easy for you to be here."

Derek grimaced. “It's only one night.” He said refusing to look across at Stiles. “I'll survive.”

Stiles sighed and reached out a hand placing it on his shoulder. An echo of Derek's attempt to comfort him earlier in Chris's study.

“I'm here for you. If you need me.” he said sincerely.

Derek turned a little, angling his body toward Stiles. It was automatic, he couldn't help it, like a compass needle that is always drawn North.

They were facing each other now, barely an inch of space between them. Stiles hand still rested gently on his shoulder. Grounding him. His scent was a balm to Derek's frayed nerves.

Had Stiles always been this tall?

Had his touch always been so warm and welcoming?

Had he always been this necessary?

Derek felt himself leaning in toward Stiles, drawn to him inexorably, until their foreheads rested against each other. Derek's free arm resting lightly on the warm skin of Stiles hip.

He could hear the comforting thump of Stiles heartbeat, it was speeding up now and he knew it was because because they were so close.

Even in the dim light coming from the hallway he could see Stiles pupils blown wide, looking at him with undisguised longing.

He could smell that spicy sweet smell of arousal breaking round him, and for the first time he was _sure_ Stiles was thinking about him.

He wanted Stiles and the realization floored him. He couldn't remember feeling this way about another man before, and yet he couldn't deny it either. He hesitated though unable to bring himself to act on it. The shadow of Kate haunted everything.

They stood there like that. Not quite embracing. Foreheads touching, staring into each others eyes, each willing the other to make the first move.

The sound of footsteps coming from the room above them made them both startle and spring apart. Chris could be heard making his way down the stairs.

“Are you boys alright?” He asked, making his way into the kitchen and switching on the light.

“Fine!” Stiles said, blushing attractively. “Just getting a glass of water.”

Chris nodded, watching them both closely, and Derek resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny.

“Well.” Chris said eventually. “I'm going to bed now. You better both make sure you get some sleep. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

Stiles nodded and wandered past him with a quick glance at Derek. “Good night.” he called as he passed.

Chris looked at Derek pointedly. “Go to bed Hale.”

“Yeah.” Derek responded gruffly. “Yeah, I am."

Derek made his way up the stairs knowing that there was no way in hell he would be able to sleep while he was in that bedroom.

Within five minutes of climbing into bed and turning out the light there was a soft knock at his door.

Stiles. He knew already.

He padded across the room and pulled the door open.

“Hey.” Stiles whispered a blush staining his cheeks. “Sorry, this is probably really presumptuous, but I thought you might be having trouble sleeping and I wondered if this would help?” he trailed off uncertainly. Clutched in his hand was the t-shirt he'd be wearing today, he held it out to Derek.

It was Derek's turn to blush now. “I- Thanks,” he said stiltedly. “But I shouldn't."

“Why not?” Stiles said plaintively. “If it helps you why shouldn't you have it?”

Derek swallowed awkwardly. “You're too young.” he said finally. “I can't do it because of what it would mean... to me... it wouldn't be right.”

Stiles face dropped. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Derek's shoulders sagged and he dragged his hands through his hair in despair. “It wouldn't be fair to you. I'm not _right_ for you. You're young and intelligent and funny and amazing and _beautiful_. You have everything going for you and I'm too... broken. You deserve to be with someone whose not as fucked up as me. Someone who has something to give you back. Besides,” He rushed on as Stiles opened his mouth to protest. “There's the age difference. You're not even eighteen and I couldn't, not after Kate. I can't be like her.”

Stiles nodded and looked away. Tears clung to his lashes and Derek's heart ached.

“Okay.” Stiles said softly. “If that's your decision then I guess I have to respect that. I won't force you if don't want to.”

He turned and started to leave. but then swung back suddenly unable to restrain himself. “You should know two things though. First off, I'm fucked up. I'm broken. If you think I'm going to be able to disappear off to college and live some kind of normal life after everything that's happened in the last year you're kidding yourself. Who is going to be able to understand what I've been through? Who's going to be able to relate to me and everything I've seen? Beacon Hills has changed me Derek. It's taken my childhood and my innocence just as surely as it took yours. Secondly, you are NOT Kate. You are _nothing_ like Kate and I'm _not_ you. You have to know that.”

He took a deep breath and looked Derek straight in the eye. “I'll respect your decision though. I won't chase you. I won't make it weird. I just want you to know this. You _matter_ to me Derek Hale. You really really _matter_ to me. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. I want you to be healthy and if you ever change your mind about this thing between us? Then I am here. I am _so_ here. You just say the word.” a tear slid down his cheek and he bit his lip.

“Okay.” he said thickly. “I'm going to go now, before I say anything else incriminating.” he shot Derek a watery smile and turned to shuffle back down the stairs still clutching his t-shirt in his fist.

Derek stood there his heart in his mouth. There were so many words sitting on the tip of his tongue and yet he couldn't he just couldn't... “Stiles?” He croaked out finally.

Stiles turned and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“You... you matter to me too.” Derek said roughly.

Stiles grinned, warm and genuine. The first real smile that Derek had seen in a while. “I know that you fucking dumbass.”

The t-shirt sailed across the landing and hit Derek in the face. He caught it and started to protest.

“Keep it.” Stiles whispered. “Not for any romantic reasons. It's just, we both know you'll sleep better with it and you need sleep Derek. We've got to bring our A game We've got to save Scott and my Dad. Take it. One friend to another.”

Derek nodded tersely. “Okay.” he agreed. “Thanks.”

Stiles waved him good night and disappeared down the stairs.

Derek turned and made his way back to the room. He curled in the bed and buried his face in the t-shirt letting the warm and familiar scent of Stiles obliterate all traces of Gerard and Kate.

Slowly, gently he drifted off to sleep.

 

o0o

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad. It was all so much easier when they were trapped in Stiles head. Right? 
> 
> This chapter is unbetaed - so if you spot any mistakes then let me know.
> 
> Anyway, as always I'm really grateful for all the wonderful comments you guys have given me. It gives me so much motivation to keep writing. You guys are the best!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took a while to write. Sorry I have had a busy week. I apologize in advance. The angst is strong in this one. Well, it's not just angst, because there is definitely romance too. Romangst, I'm going to call it. There, I've invented a new genre.

The sun had only just begun to creep over the horizon when Derek woke the next morning. He padded quietly downstairs. Stiles was still asleep on the couch, sprawled gracelessly on his front, arms akimbo, his face smashed against a pillow and his covers almost falling off. The curtains were tightly drawn, and the room was still dark. Derek watched silently for a moment, drinking in the steady rise and fall of Stiles chest and the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. He allowed himself to enjoy the indulgence of looking at someone he cared for, safe and at rest, however temporarily. Stiles stirred briefly, mumbling nonsense in his sleep and Derek's heart stumbled in his chest. He moved forward soundlessly and, bent over, carefully he drew the covers up over Stiles broad shoulders, tucking him in. His hands lingered a moment, smoothing the covers out, relishing the warmth and comfort of the contact.

Upstairs he could hear movement. Chris was obviously awake. Reluctantly he straightened himself and made his way into the kitchen. His stomach was growling at him and he rifled through the cupboards looking for breakfast things. There wasn't much. Chris had been a way for a little while now, and he obviously hadn't prioritized buying in breakfast things on his return. Eventually Derek managed to rustle up some slightly stale cereal. There was no milk though. He poured the cereal into a bowl, and began to eat it dry, standing at the counter. Cora used to eat dry cereal. She'd never been a big fan of dairy products, right from when she was a child.

A few minutes later Chris wandered into the kitchen, alert and dressed. “Stiles still asleep?” He asked. Derek nodded. Chris looked serious. “Do you have any idea what his plan is?”

Derek shook his head as he swallowed a mouthful of dry cereal. Honestly, he'd thought about it and the only thing he could assume was that it had something to do with what the old woman at the library had said. Virtually all the research they had done had been done together. If Stiles had found some magical way to defeat Legion during that process he'd succeeded in keeping it very quiet.

Chris sighed unhappily. “I don't like this.”

“Me either.” Derek admitted.

Chris leaned against the counter, his arms crossed and looked at Derek intently. “I need to ask you. How sure are you that Stiles can be trusted.” he said finally.

Derek put down his cereal bowl with slow deliberation. He met Chris' gaze stonily. “I'm sure.” He said with an air of finality.

Chris pursed his lips and his scent soured. “Look, I'm not denying that Stiles is a good kid.” He said slowly. “But he's a good kid who's been through a lot, far more then any teenager should ever have to deal with."

“You can't blame him for that.” Derek ground out. “It's not a reason not to trust him.”

“It's a reason to be cautious.” Chris countered. “For his sake and for ours. To be clear, I'm not saying I don't trust him because he was possessed by the Nogitsune, I'm saying I'm not sure he has the insight and the maturity to plan how to defeat an ancient demon.”

Derek bristled. “Yet you were willing to let _Allison_ lead your hunters. She was just a teenager when she worked out how to defeat the Oni.” Derek replied.

Chris blanched and a storm of emotion flickered briefly in his eyes. “She is- was an Argent,” He said, in a voice carefully devoid of feeling. “She had skill, tenacity, courage. She was a _good_ leader, but she paid a heavy price for being put in that position.”

Derek grimaced and looked away. Maybe it had been a low blow to bring up Allison, it needed to be said though. Chris needed to see the truth. “Stiles isn't an Argent.” Derek said somberly. “He's not involved in this because of some misplaced sense of duty, he's not doing this for a thrill. He's doing this because the two people he loves best in the world have been possessed by this demon, and if anyone knows what _that_ can do to you its Stiles. He doesn't want to lose the people he loves and he doesn't want them to have to live with the same regrets he does every day.” Derek took a deep breath. “So I will tell you now that if Stiles says he knows a way to defeat this demon. Then he _knows a way to defeat this demon._ I may not like not knowing the plan yet, but if you're asking me if I trust Stiles? The answer is yes. Implicitly. He's never given me a reason not to.”

He pushed away from the counter and started to leave the room, but as he made his way past Chris, the man grabbed his arm and leaned forward. “Just... be careful Derek.” Chris said in low voice. “Its clear that you and Stiles have become close.”

Derek glared furiously at the hand on his arm and then back up at Chris. Chris removed it, but met his gaze firmly. “Stiles doesn't want to tell us the plan yet. Fine, but just ask yourself – why? What reason is there not to bring us in, when we're clearly on his side. What's the _cost_ of defeating Legion going to be?”

Derek swallowed and his closed his eyes. He could feel the wisdom of Chris' warning, despite himself. He took a deep breath. “I trust him.” he said again quietly.

Chris nodded and stepped back. “Okay.” he said simply. “I hope you don't live to regret that.”

Derek shook his head a little, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease which was now settling over him. Chris had asked a good question though, he couldn't deny it.

 

o0o

 

It was a Monday morning, but there was no way Stiles would be able to go to school, not now they knew that Legion was in possession of Scott and the Sheriff. Not when they had both spoken about getting him readmitted to Eichen House. The only hope they had was to lie low and hope nobody thought to check the Argent house for them both.

Stiles finally stirred at around 10 am, and by that time Derek was washed, dressed and prowling round the Argent house. His mind was buzzing thinking about his conversation with Chris this morning, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something ominous brewing. More so then Stiles was letting on.

“Late night?” Derek said by way of greeting, when Stiles finally stumbled into the kitchen.

Stiles scowled. “Yeah, I guess I had a lot on my mind.”

He moved round the counter and pulled open cupboards looking for a bowl. Chris had been to the convenience store that morning to replenish his waning supplies. There was now an unopened box of cereal on the counter and fresh milk in the fridge.

Derek wet his lips nervously. He wanted to press Stiles about his plan to defeat Legion, but he didn't want to ruin this fragile understanding that had developed between them.

Stiles seemed to sense something was up though, he kept darting glances at Derek from beneath his lashes as he busied himself making breakfast.

“You probably want to know what this big plan to defeat Legion is.” he said finally.

Derek shrugged, feigning indifference. “I trust you.” he said truthfully.

Stiles looked at him and smiled softly. “I know.” he replied. “And I would have told you more last night, but Chris was there, and I'm not entirely sure he's going to approve of the route we have to go down here.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, waiting for Stiles to continue. Stiles drew up a stool at the counter and sat down to eat his bowl of cereal.

“It involves Alice,” He said spooning in a large mouthful of cereal.

“The girl at the library?” Derek asked.

Stiles swallowed before continuing. “Well not just her,” he said. “There are three witches, Alice is one of them, they're a coven. They'll all need to be here to help do this."

“Is that what the old woman was talking to you about?” Derek asked.

“Alma, yes. She's the oldest one, the... crone. I don't know how much you know about this, probably more then me, but apparently the most powerful covens are always composed of three witches, always female. The maiden, the mother and the crone.”

Now Stiles mentioned it he did remember something about that, a conversation with his mother maybe, the specifics of which danced just out of reach of his memory. “Vaguely.” he admitted. “I think it has something to do with the phases of the moon.”

Stiles nodded, looking impressed. “That's right, they do represent different phases. Basically there's a whole bunch of symbolism going on, not just related to the lunar cycle but what the three of them embody. I won't bore you with it all now, but the fact that there's three of them and Legion possesses three people. That's significant. They can help us, they know what to do.” He seemed jittery as he said this and wouldn't quite meet Derek's eyes.

“Okay.” Derek said slowly. “When will they be joining us?” He felt like this wasn't quite the whole story. There was nothing in it to account for why Stiles seemed so upset yesterday after his conversation with Alma.

“They're already here.” Stiles said. “They just needed to get Mariska, she's the third member of the coven, but she had some kind of commitment, child related I think, so they couldn't drive down and join us until late last night. They've put up at a motel just outside of town and they're there at the moment.”

“What are they going to do?” Derek asked.

At this Stiles looked uncomfortable. He took another mouthful of cereal and chewed it slowly, his eyes downcast. “There's a ritual.” Stiles said finally, and his heart beat was steady. “It turns out there's only one way of getting rid of a Fallen for good.”

“What does it involve?” Derek asked curiously.

Stiles grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “Magic of course!” he said with forced flippancy.

Derek rolled his eyes. It was evident this was all he was going to get out of Stiles on the subject. He sighed in frustration. “When are they getting here?” he asked.

“They're coming over after lunch. They'll... be able to explain things better then I can.” Stiles said. “I was going to see if the rest of the pack wanted to show up, but for the moment I think it's better that we keep this between Chris, you and I.”

Derek levelled Stiles with a long look, somehow it didn't feel like he was much more enlightened then he had been before Stiles began his explanation. Three powerful witches and a magical ritual. It didn't seem like enough of a reason for Stiles to be this on edge. Reluctantly he put it down to Stiles concern for his Dad and Scott.

“Okay.” he said.

He wasn't happy.

 

o0o

  
Stiles was sort of justified in his concern, Chris wasn't entirely happy to hear that the plan to defeat Legion involved a coven of powerful witches. On balance though, he seemed to feel that ancient demons were worse then witches and so he agreed to let Stiles invite them over. At midday, a big blue station wagon with wood panelling pulled into the driveway. Stiles peeked out of the curtains to take a look.

“It's them.” He said, turning to Chris and Derek.

Chris went to open the door and welcome them. Stiles and Derek stood awkwardly in the living room.

Alice came in first, blushing prettily when she saw Stiles and Derek, “Hi!” She said, her gaze flitting anxiously round the room. “Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too.” Stiles said magnanimously.

Derek nodded tersely and said nothing. His skin crawled with anxiety.

Alma came in next. Her pince-nez balanced precariously on her nose, her hair still tied back in a loose bun. She looked at both of them imperiously. “We meet again.” she said her cold blue eyes fixed on Stiles.

Stiles nodded looking pale but determined under her gaze.

The third member of the coven, Mariska he supposed, followed them into the room. She was short, with a cloud of peroxide blonde hair and a low cut top. There was a slick of red lipstick across her mouth. The smell of perfume overwhelmed Derek's nostrils. He blanched a little and determined to breathe through his mouth for the moment.

“Hallo pets.” She said in a thick Russian accent. “It is good to meet you at last. I have heard so much about you both.” She breezed over to Stiles and shook his hand, “You are Stiles?” She said leaning into kiss him on both cheeks.

Stiles nodded, flushing slightly. She turned and fixed Derek with a leonine gaze. He had never felt more like prey, even when facing down the Alpha pack. “And you must be Derek? Yes?” She said striding over to him and taking his hand. She squeezed it knowingly and then looked at Alice slyly. “Lapochka, you didn't do him justice. Look at him”

“Er...” Alice spluttered looking horrified. Derek clenched his jaw, and leveled Mariska with his most withering glare.

Mariska looked contrite.“Ah, do not be angry Kotik. I am only teasing her. She has already explained to me... all the good ones are gay, yes?” She glanced over at Stiles.

Derek could feel Chris' bemused gaze on him. He chanced a glance at Stiles who looked torn between mortification and glee at this little scene.

Derek extracted his hand from Mariska's iron grasp. “It's nice to meet you.” he ground out.

Mariska grinned. “Thank-you. Well, Alma tells me you have a demon problem.” she said, wisely changing the subject.

“Apparently you are able to help us with that.” Chris said.

Alma sat down rigidly in a high back armchair. “We can.” she said evenly. “We have been hunting Legion a long time."

“You have a history with this Demon then?” Chris asked, interestedly.

“You could say that Christopher.” Mariska said seriously. “Covens throughout recorded history have sought to destroy the Fallen.”

“You've not managed to get to Legion before now though.” Derek stated.

“It's not simple.” Alice said, blushing a little as she spoke. “You need to know who all three hosts are and constrain them before you can purge the demon and destroy it.”

Alma and Mariska both nodded. “It is a dangerous business Kotik.” Mariska said, patting Derek on the arm, “and not something to be undertaken lightly.”

“How do you suggest we go about it?” Chris asked.

“Each of us will approach a different host,” Alma said. “The aim is to subdue the demon in each host. We then bring the hosts together. We will need a location, somewhere isolated. Only then can the hosts be forcibly purged and the demon destroyed for good.”

It was agreed, they would split into pairs. Alice and Chris were tasked with subduing Deaton. Stiles and Alma were to be sent after the Sheriff and Mariska and Derek would pursue Scott. Derek suggested that once captured they bring the three hosts to the burned out shell of his old family home. It was unlikely that they would be disturbed there and it was soon agreed upon.

Stiles had remained uncharacteristically silent throughout this whole debate, and Derek couldn't stop his eyes drifting over to him. He looked tense and Derek could smell the misery pouring off him in waves. It made his heart clench and he wanted nothing more then to sidle across, wrap his arms around him and bury his face in the crook of Stiles neck. He quelled he impulse.

Still, when Stiles excused himself to go and use the bathroom, Derek couldn't resist waiting a minute and then following him upstairs on the pretext of getting a sweater from the guest room. He met Stiles on his way out of the bathroom and pulled him into the guest room closing the door behind them.

Stiles looked wan, there were dark circles underneath his eyes and his posture was tense. “What's up?” he said as Derek closed the door to the bedroom behind them.

“You look like shit.” Derek said bluntly.

Stiles looked affronted. “Fuck you very much. Asshole.” he bit out.

“I didn't mean it like that.” Derek said in irritation.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You've got such a way with words. I'm a lucky guy.”

Derek blushed, irrationally. “We're not...You know we can't... look, you know how I feel about y...” Derek broke off frustrated at his inability to articulate something so simple. They weren't together and yet he couldn't imagine himself with anyone else. He took a deep breath. “You look anxious, upset,” he swallowed nervously. “I want to help.”

Stiles gaze softened a little. “I know.” he said eventually. “I just won't be able to relax until I'm sure that Legion has been destroyed and everyone is safe. Thanks for asking though.” he reached out a hand and placed it lightly on Derek's arm, grinning. “God, you really suck at this kind of thing in real life don't you?”

Derek's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What do you mean? In real life?”

Stiles blushed and his heart rate ratcheted up a notch. He laughed hollowly. “Nothing.”

It was a lie.

The tell tale skip of the heart beat, his refusal to look directly at Derek.

Derek's heart sank. “You're lying to me.” he said with certainty.

Stiles ran his hands through his hair uncomfortably, still refusing to look directly at Derek. “It's not... it's not that simple.” he began.

“Then explain it to me.” Derek said in frustration. “For a month now, I've felt like there's something your not saying. Something important, just... tell me.” he pleaded.

Stiles gaze skittered across his face anxiously, and then settled fixedly on the bedside cabinet. “I can't...” he began.

“Please.” Derek begged, his voice cracking a little.

Stiles glanced at him again and whatever he saw in Derek's face obviously broke his resolve. He folded his arms across his chest defensively.

“We... we kind of already had a thing. A... romantic thing, but you don't remember it.” he admitted.

Derek felt as if all the air had rushed from the room. “Th-That's not possible...” he stuttered out in shock.

Stiles shrugged awkwardly. “When you were absorbed into my mind, we got close. Every time I fell asleep for well over a week we spent time together in my dreams, hours and hours of time, talking, getting to know each other. You helped me work through stuff to do with the Nogitsune, we shared stuff, just...” he looked away helplessly. “Eventually we kissed, we even agreed to start dating, when you got out.” he laughed hollowly, “but then when you woke up and you didn't remember anything.” Stiles looked at him anxiously.

Derek felt sick suddenly, everything about his relationship with Stiles in the last few months was suddenly cast in an entirely different light. None of this, the closeness, the way Stiles had softened toward him. None of it was based on _anything_ real.

“So you fell for some dream version of me.” Derek said blinking rapidly, his voice sounded flat and lifeless to his own ears. “All this time you've been pining after some fantasy that I'm not living up to.”

Stiles stepped toward him and grasped his arms firmly. “No! Not some dream version Derek, it was _you.”_

Derek shook him off. “It happened in your head Stiles. While I was in a coma! How can it really have been me if I can't remember it?” He spat, furiously. “You said yourself in _real life_ I'm not able to help you. I'm not good at offering support or being a shoulder to cry on. I'm not even able to have a functioning relationship with another human being. Fuck it. I can't even walk into a motel without having a panic attack. Let alone...” he broke off breathing hard, his heart hammering in his chest. “Sorry to disappoint you, but whoever you were speaking to in those dreams? It wasn't me.”

He spun on his heel and opened the door, rage and hurt coursing through him. How could he have been so stupid?

“Your Mom used to make chocolate chip pancakes.” Stiles called out, his voice ragged with emotion. Derek stopped dead in his tracks. “She couldn't cook much, but she... she used to do that... your Dad, he was the one who cooked, he had a little herb garden out the back and used to put fresh herbs in everything, make it all from scratch.”

Derek spun to look at him disbelievingly, he felt like someone had cracked him open with a sledgehammer.

“You broke Laura's bedroom window twice with a baseball and ended up getting grounded.” Stiles continued, his eyes wide and pleading. “After the fire you moved to New York with Laura, you were angry with yourself and guilty, and one night you tried to run away, you got as far as the bus shelter when she found you. She was furious, she told you she loved you and begged you not to leave her alone. Not to take away the only family she had left. That's when you started to get things together again. For her sake.” he stepped closer cautiously. “Every year, on the anniversary of the fire you go out to your old house on the preserve and spend time there.” he trailed off.

Derek took a step back. “How could you possibly know?” he whispered.

Stiles let out a sharp bark of hysterical laughter. “Because you told me!” he exclaimed wretchedly. “I didn't violate your memories or force you to do it. You told me willingly.” he stepped forward again. “This isn't a trick Derek. I'm not trying to seduce you or lie to you. I didn't tell you about what happened because I didn't know how to, but trust me, I do know _you_ ” He inhaled shakily, “I'm kind of half way in love with you. All of you, not just the person who told me all those things, but the one who let me come round and watch movies with him on my crappy laptop. The one who argues with me about every fucking thing and doesn't put up with any of my bullshit. The one who drove me to San Francisco, and stopped to take my picture in front of a statue of a giant green olive.” he laughed humorlessly but his heart beat steadily in his chest. “The one who wants to do the right thing for everybody, despite having lost more then anyone. The one who is always trying to be a better man, even though he's _already_ one of the best men I've ever known.”

Derek could feel a burning lump in his throat and tears pricking at his eyes, this was too much. He had no way of dealing with this. It was more than he could even begin to handle. “I'm sorry Stiles... I can't, I don't know how to deal with this right now.” he muttered, he turned on his heel and left.

 

o0o

 

Derek hid in the bathroom for a bit, pacing back and forward in complete turmoil. He couldn't begin to get his head round the idea that Stiles knew him so well, that there was this whole part of their relationship that Stiles had concealed from him for over a _month_. Eventually he heard the sound of Stiles leaving the guest room and making his way downstairs. Derek gave it two minutes and then followed. He couldn't think about all of this now, he couldn't begin to examine how he felt. He just had to squash it down and get on with the job at hand.

As he entered the room he pointedly avoided looking at Stiles, he felt too raw at the moment to be able to look in his eyes and see what exactly? Disappointment? Anger? Betrayal?

“You couldn't find your sweater then?” Mariska said, eyeing him curiously.

“It wasn't where I thought it was.” Derek grunted back.

“Well. We should get going.” Alma said. “We need to move quickly. The moment Legion realizes we are on to it, it will move against us.”

Two by two they filed out. Chris handed Stiles a set of car keys. “You should take Allison's old car.” He said gruffly. Stiles nodded, his eyes skimming over to Derek almost unbidden. His scent was a confused mishmash of anxiety, anger, guilt and devastation. Derek could feel a high pitched whine building at the back of his own throat, everything within him just wanting to step forward and soothe Stiles, hold him and just make it all go away. He squashed that feeling down harshly.

“Good luck everyone.” Derek ground out, not taking his eyes off of Stiles. “Stay safe.”

Stiles met his gaze and swallowed nervously. He nodded though.

“We meet back at the preserve by 5pm.” Alma said firmly.

“We'll be there.” Chris said, his mouth set in a grim line.

 

o0o

 

 

 **Thanks so much for all your lovely comments and for everyone who even takes the time to kudos. I can't tell you how much it means. I have other fic that I'm writing now, but this one is absolutely my baby and has a special place in my heart.**  
  
**The final chapter (which in my mind I've called the SHOWDOWN) is in the process of being written. It looks like it might be twice as long as this one, but I should have a much less busy week next week and there is no reason why it shouldn't be up by next Sunday at the absolute latest. Possibly earlier if I can do it! Also, I'm on[tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yodas-yo-yo) now. I would love to see you over there!**

**As ever, I hope you enjoyed all the romangst! Kudos, comments and even concrit are welcome. If you spot any spellings, formatting or britishisms that need correcting then let me know!**

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! If you've got this far then thank-you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the ending!

Mariska unlocked her station wagon and climbed in. Derek followed her mutely, walking round and getting into the passenger seat. The entire car smelt strongly of her perfume, and Derek immediately opened a window as the scent threatened to overwhelm him.

She started the car. “You know how to direct me to the school, Kotik?”

“Of course, and its _Derek_.” he responded irritably. Of the three women, he hadn't wanted to be parterned with Mariska. She was brassy, brash and her perfume... well, maybe it wouldn't have been quite as obnoxious to a non-werewolf nose. Also, he hated pet names, especially when they were used by people he barely knew. Pet names were an earned privilege and anything but his real name was an unwelcome over-familiarity.

She pulled out of the driveway and Derek began directing her to the High School. All he could think about was Stiles; the echoes of their conversation in the guest room and the look on Stiles face as they parted. Derek knew he hadn't handled the situation well, but the fact that Stiles had withheld the truth about their time in his mind hurt. Besides, what was the etiquette for finding out you were missing memories from time spent in someone else's subconscious?

It probably didn't involve walking out and hiding in the nearest bathroom to freak out for ten minutes.

He could almost hear Laura's gentle reproofs.

_Stop._

_T_ _ake time_ _to listen._

_Try to understand._

_Try to stop pushing everyone away._

_Not everybody is Kate, Derek._

Stiles wasn't Kate. Stiles would have never hurt his family. In fact Stiles had proved time and time again that he would be prepared to risk his own life to save people, including Derek. That knowledge didn't stop him feeling like he'd been betrayed though.

_How would he have told you_

_What could he have said, that you would have listened to?_

_He didn't want to hurt you Derek._

Fucking Laura.

Stiles _could_ have said something. He could have hinted at it. He'd had a month to tell Derek, and instead he'd just... done what exactly? Come over? Tried to be friends? Skirted round the edges of it, without telling Derek the truth. It had been a lie of omission and it _hurt_.

The things Stiles knew, private things, snapshots of memories that Derek couldn't imagine sharing with _anyone_. Memories so personal he hoarded them jealously in the darkest corners of himself. Buried them deep under layers of mistrust, anger and self loathing, hardly ever taking them out to look at them, because it was just too painful. Hearing Stiles talk about them, about his family and his childhood was a level of intimacy that he was unprepared for.

He barely noticed when Mariska pulled the car over.

“This isn't the High School.” he said tersely. “Keep going.”

“No Derek it isn't, but I feel we must have a little chat.” she turned awkwardly in her seat to look at him, constrained by her seatbelt. “This is a dangerous thing we must do, but your heart is not in it. Your head is in uh... oblaka... the clouds.”

Derek stared out of the window stonily. “I'll be fine.” he gritted out. “Just...”

“Forgive me. You are _not_ fine.” Mariska said firmly. “You are worried for Stiles. Yes?”

Derek's eyes flickered over to her, he shrugged warily. “Maybe.” he allowed. It was true. Despite all his hurt and disappointment, underneath the ragged edges of his anger, the idea that something would happen to Stiles was frightening. Just the thought made his claws prick against his palms and his stomach twist into knots.

“You should be.” she said pragmatically. “What he attempts here with this demon is very dangerous. However, as we say in Russia, _Volkov boyat'sa — v les ne khodit.”_

Derek looked at her blankly.

“It means uh... just because you fear the wolf, doesn't mean you don't go into the wood.”

Derek smiled grimly. “Fitting.” he bit out.

“He is taking a risk. To some degree it is risky for all of us. If we want to succeed and defeat Legion, we cannot hide from that risk. We must embrace it. Otherwise those we wish to save will _not_ survive. He knows this, he has accepted it. It is true all through life though Derek, a life lived in fear, is a life half lived.” she reached out putting a hand on his arm, and he tensed. “You will listen to me? Da? We do this well and hopefully Stiles will be safe.”

Derek pulled his arm away from her and she looked at him sadly. “You are angry and hurt. I see it all round you, you care for him, even though I think you wish you did not.”she swallowed. “I can see you have lost a lot, all that you loved consumed by fire and turned to ash. For a long time there has been a fire within you, anger, burning white hot inside. Raging against the world and all that it has done to you. Now there is a different fire starting to consume you. Your feelings for him they...”

“Stop-” Derek ground out raggedly, shooting out a hand to grab her arm. “Y-you need to stop this now.”

She fixed him with a somber gaze, and slowly covered his hand with her own. “Da. Okay Derek. I am sorry. It is a bad habit of mine. Sometimes I can see things things that other people wish I could not, and then I want to try and fix it. It is... the mothering instinct I guess, but not my place. I apologize.”

Derek rolled his eyes and forced a wan smile. “Mothering instinct? Stiles was telling me about that. The maiden, the mother and the crone."

Mariska snorted. “Alice is no virgin, and if you call Alma a crone she will have your testicles removed and turn them into a small purse.” she smiled, “But yes. Archaic as those terms must seem, there is some degree of truth in them. When it comes to witches _Bog troitsu lyubit._ ”

“You're aware I don't speak Russian, right?” he snarked.

She smacked him on the arm playfully. “Regardless, you understand me well enough, I think. Come. We go find Scott, we embrace the risk and if we defeat Legion, then you can look after your Stiles.”

“He's not _my_ Stiles.” Derek bit out, and his hands shook.

She snorted derisively. “If you really believe that, then you are a fool Derek Hale. Come now. We must be quick.”

 

o0o

 

“Where will be the best place to meet Scott?” Mariska asked as they idled in her car outside Beacon Hills High School.

Derek frowned, considering it. “There's a basement.” he said, “it's pretty secluded, we could probably get away with meeting him there.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

Derek fired of a quick text.

**Meet me in the basement of BHHS after school. I have urgent news about Stiles.**

They both stared at it, willing Scott to respond, but Derek's phone remained unnervingly silent for about fifteen minutes until finally it vibrated.

**ok.**

That was it. The whole response. Just two letters. So much rested on it though. Derek's palms began to sweat. He could feel his claws itching under his skin.

“We're not going to be able to sneak up on him if you're with me. He's going to know your there.” Derek said, Mariska's perfume irritating his nose. “Your scent will give you away.”

“You think so little of me Derek? A good witch is always prepared. I have a salve, it will mask my scent. I hadn't used it yet out of deference to you, werewolves do not like things that disguise the smell of a person. Am I right?”

Derek shrugged. “With the amount of perfume you're wearing that's kind of a mute point.” he said without thinking.

Mariska looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You do not like my perfume?” she said testily.

Derek had the grace to feel a little ashamed. “Perfume is different for werewolves,” he admitted. “We prefer... natural scents, it's easier, less abrasive."

Mariska tutted disapprovingly. “Fine _Derek._ Have it your way.” she made a great show of unclipping her seatbelt, and turning she rummaged around the back seat wresting a giant carpet bag onto her knee.

She rooted through it, clicking her tongue in annoyance. Derek looked at the bag warily.

“Aha!” she crowed finally pulling out a pot of something that was labelled face cream. She opened it, and whatever was inside was _definitely_ not face cream. It was an olive colour and it had a coarse, grainy consistency. Derek leaned forward to take a closer look despite himself. It didn't smell of anything.

Mariska deftly swiped her thumb through the mixture and then applied it to her wrists and neck, muttering something in Russian under her breath. Suddenly there was nothing. No scent from her at all.

Derek looked across at her curiously and his nostrils flared briefly as he sniffed.

Mariska grinned toothily at him.

“Better?” she asked.

It was entirely disconcerting to be sitting next to someone, and not be able to smell them. Not be able to use their scent to determine their mood or emotional state. It almost felt like Derek was missing a limb. He shrugged. “Weirder.” he admitted.

Mariska clicked her tongue. “It seems with you Derek, I can never win.”

 

o0o

 

They waited the short while, until near the end of the school day and then snuck down into the basement, Derek leading the way.

“It is horrible in here.” Mariska groused. “It smells of feet. Why would it do that? It's a basement not a locker room.”

Derek rolled his eyes.

She grinned sheepishly. “Worse for a werewolf nose though? Right?”

“Something like that.” Derek said.

“Listen, when Scott arrives you must talk to him. Get Legion to reveal itself to you. We must insure that _it_ is the one you are talking to, and not Scott. Only then can I step in and subdue it.” she said seriously.

Derek nodded, and checked his phone. Time was creeping up on them and Scott would be here soon. At that moment his phone vibrated and a message from Stiles came through.

**Dad just arrived home. Things are about to go down. Good luck.**

Derek swallowed. It couldn't be easy for Stiles, with both his Dad and Scott in danger.

 **Be safe. Don't do anything stupid.** He typed back. Pressing send before he could second guess himself.

He wondered how Chris and Alice were faring with Deaton. How was this all going to work out?

At that moment he heard the sound of familiar footsteps thumping down the basement steps. He glanced at Mariska and signalled for her to hide.

She ducked behind a stack of old cardboard boxes and Derek braced himself.

The door opened and Scott loped in, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

“Derek? Hey man? What's going on? Where's Stiles?”

“We need to talk.” Derek said brusquely.

“Is Stiles in some kind of trouble?” Scott asked. Everything about him from the tone of his voice, to his scent radiated concern. It wasn't Scott though, and Derek had to try and remember that.

“Derek? Come on man, you're really freaking me out here.” Scott pressed. “His Dad called me because he didn't come home last night, and he didn't come into school today either. Everyone's worried.”

Derek looked away, trying to work out how he was going to get Legion to reveal itself.

“We've been looking for him everywhere. Where is he?” Scott asked plaintively.

“I don't know.” Derek said finally.

Scott pursed his lips and fixed him with a stony glare. “I know you're lying to me.” He said in a low growl.

“Fine.” Derek exhaled. “I know where he is, but he doesn't want to be found, and I think I should respect that.”

Scott took a step toward him. “We've discussed this Derek. He's not okay. He hasn't been ever since the Nogitsune possession. If you're _really_ his friend, you'll tell me where he is. I just want to help him.” Scott cocked his head to the side, a gesture Derek had come to find sickeningly familiar.

Derek could feel a growl rumbling low in his chest. “If I'm really his friend.” He bit out. “I'll keep him away from _you_.”

Scott's features twisted into an ugly smile, his eyes glinted dangerously, glowing a dull red in the dim light of the basement.

“Are you challenging your Alpha?” he said in a voice of quiet menace.

“No.” Derek ground out shaking his head slightly. “I'm challenging you.” he leaned forward and smiled slow and dangerous, refusing to be intimidated. “I see you... Legion.”

Scott snarled, his hands lashed out claws extending trying to shred Derek's throat. Derek dodged, but only just, and his left arm erupted in pain. He didn't have time to check his injuries though. Scott had already lunged forward, picking him up by his neck tightly, his claws digging in as he choked the breath from Derek.

“What did you think this would accomplish wolf?” It was Scott's mouthing moving, but the voice... it was unmistakeably Legion, harsh and guttural. “I can find out where the spark is, with or without your help.” Scott's eyes seemed to get darker, the pupil expanding out and out till it blocked out the iris and sclera. His jaw began to extend disfiguring his face horribly, like a snake about to swallow it's prey. Derek kicked and struggled, trying to escape. Scott was too strong though. Derek had no chance on his own against a demon possessed alpha werewolf. Scott's hands tightened round his neck and he could feel the bones creaking painfully. He choked ragged gasps of air, and his vision began to blur.

Suddenly Mariska appeared out from her hiding place behind the boxes. Scott's head whipped round quickly.

“What do you want, witch.” he growled, his grip on Derek's neck loosening fractionally. Derek panted frantically, inhaling greedy lungfuls of air.

Mariskas eyes glowed violet in the dim light of the basement. “I want to be the end of you. Demon.”

Scott threw Derek by the neck, hurling him into the nearest wall. The wall shook and plaster crumbled off in large chunks. Derek lay there for a second stunned and bruised. His arm burned white hot with pain, and when he looked down he saw the flesh was shredded, oozing blood.

“You cannot kill us. We are many. We are ancient. We are immortal.” Scott rasped, his eyes burning.

Mariska grinned sharply. “Longevity and immortality are not the same demon. Believe me when I tell you, your time has come.”

Scott snarled and dove at her recklessly.

Derek staggered up preparing to try and drag him away from Mariska. He needn't have bothered. She raised a hand out flat, palm up and blew on it. The air seemed to shimmer around her.

She muttered under her breath in a language Derek didn't recognize, but Scott staggered back as if he had been hit.

Mariska closed her eyes still muttering, the air around them crackled and the scent of burnt ozone filled the basement.

Scott bent over breathing hard, whatever was happening was weakening him, but he was trying to fight it. Mariska moved forward, a thin aura of purple light shimmering round her. “Somno, recedunt, cedat.” Mariska chanted repeatedly under her breath, her eyes glowing eerily.

Gradually she moved toward Scott, and the closer she got the more submissive his posture became, until he was kneeling head bowed before her. All the strength and fight seemingly sapped from him.

Mariska reached forward and tilted his chin with her index finger. Scott's eyes burned like hot coals, his mouth twisted in anger, but he didn't, or perhaps couldn't, speak. “Reliqua.” Mariska said finally. Scott tumbled forward, collapsing on the floor.

Derek scrambled over. “Will he be all right now?"

“It is not over yet. I have put him into a deep sleep, subduing Legion. We have maybe two hours in which to perform the ritual and destroy the demon.”

They snuck back through the school carefully and made their way to their car. The high school was virtually empty now but they still had to be cautious as they loaded Scott's unconscious body into the back seat of Mariska's car.

“We must be quick Derek.” Mariska said. “You must show me how to get to this old house of yours.”

Mariska started the car and Derek began rapidly issuing directions, glancing back every now and again to take in Scott's still form on the back seat. He checked his phone. There were no more messages from Stiles. He couldn't help worrying though, he wanted to call and make sure Stiles was okay, but he couldn't risk it. Stiles and Alma could be in the middle of trying to subdue the Sheriff and any distraction might prove fatal.

Anyway, Scott was in some ways was the most difficult of the three hosts to subdue, he was stronger and quicker then both the Sheriff and Deaton. It felt like cold comfort, but Alma was with Stiles and seemed experienced. Stiles should be fine. He _had_ to be.

When they arrived though there was no sign of Stiles and Alma. Alice and Chris were there already, with Deaton's unconscious body in the back seat of Chris's truck.

“Have you heard anything from Stiles?” Chris asked approaching the station wagon grimly.

“He sent me a text to say his Dad had arrived home and they were about to confront him.” Derek said. “I've heard nothing since.”

Chris mouth tightened in concern. He checked his watch. “It's nearly five o'clock now.” His eyes drifted to the old dirt road that approached the Hale house. “Maybe I should go after them, make sure they're okay.” He mused.

Derek struggled to get out of the car, wincing as pain exploded in his arm. “I'll go with you.” he said. He couldn't just sit here waiting, he needed to do something.

Mariska came over quickly her mouth tightened in a little moue of disapproval. “No. No-one goes anywhere. Alma and Stiles are more then capable. You will stay here.” Chris opened his mouth to protest. “Besides,” she continued, ignoring them. “Derek is injured. Alice, will you look at him for a moment."

“It's nothing,” Derek grumbled. “I'm a _werewolf,_ it'll heal.”

Alice came over and smiled at him, a little shyly. “I might be able to help.” She said, “Please let me take a look?”

Derek was disarmed by the gentleness of her manner. He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He said knowing he must sound like a petulant child. The truth was that while his bruises were fading, the deep gash up his arm from where Scott's claws had raked him wasn't healing at all.

Alice peeled back the sleeve of his henley gingerly, and winced. “You should take this off and let me clean and bandage the wound.” she said, gesturing to his top.

“It'll be alright.” Derek said dismissively.

“Derek, we both know this is an Alpha werewolf scratch, even for you it could take days to heal, and I have things with me that will help expedite the process.” she said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Derek sighed loudly, but carefully he shed the offending item of clothing. Alice disappeared off to root about in the trunk of the station wagon. She returned a moment later with a little tupperware box.

“Here,” she said. “Sit on the stump over there and I'll take a look at it.

“Fine” he bit out, striding across to take a seat.

He kept straining to hear the tell tale signs of a car approaching, for any sign that Stiles and Alma were on their way, but there was nothing. He fiddled with his phone, checking the time again. It was five o'clock now. What if something had happened?

“I'm sure he's okay.” Alice said.

He glanced across at her, she was focused intently on cleaning the gashes. “Stiles is a powerful spark and no one has more experience then Alma. I'm sure they'll be able to deal with whatever has happened.”

Derek's stomach knotted and his jaw clenched. “Stiles is a reckless idiot who leaps into danger without thinking about his own safety.” he hissed in pain as she dabbed gently at the deepest part of the wound. “Besides he only really just found out he was a spark.” he added gruffly. “He's resourceful and quick thinking, but I don't think he's at the stage where his spark is going to be much help to anyone, let alone himself.”

Alice gave him an odd look. “That's not true,” she began. “Otherwise...”

Just then there was the sound of an engine approaching in the distance, relief and apprehension rose within him. “I think they're coming.” Derek said trying to stand. Alice placed a hand lightly on his arm. “Stay. I just want to apply some of this ointment. It will accelerate the healing process.”

Derek growled trying to shake her off.

“Please Derek.” she said gently, “You won't be any good to us injured. You won't be any good to Stiles.”

Derek sagged a little and sat down reluctantly allowing her to smear the ointment gently over the ragged edges of the claw marks. The wounds tingled and fizzed under her ministrations, and as he watched they began to close.

It was another two minutes before the car became visible. When they could finally see it, Derek sprang up in concern. Alma was driving and Stiles was slumped in the passenger seat, pale but awake.

Derek rushed over, closely followed by the others. He ran around and opened the passenger side door.

“What's wrong? What's happened?” he asked, he could smell blood and gunpowder. He could feel the overwhelming urge to shift as concern and fear rose within him. He clamped down on the desire hard.

Stiles grinned humourlessly. “My Dad shot me.” he said weakly.

“Shit. Where? Are you okay? Do we need to get you to a hospital?” Derek crouched down in front of the open car door. “Show me Stiles, show me where.”

“The bullet hit his arm.” Alma said brusquely. “He'll be okay, it missed anything vital.”

Derek growled low. “You were supposed to be looking after him.” he bit out. “So forgive me if I don't take _your_ word for it.”

Alma looked at him, cold and furious. “I _did_ look after him, nobody told him to try and take a bullet for me.”

Derek glared down at Stiles. “You jumped in front of a bullet?”

Stiles shrugged abortively, wincing in pain. “He was going to shoot Alma. It was instinct.”

“As I've already pointed out young man. It would take a lot more then one bullet to kill me.” Alma retorted acidly.

Derek clenched his fists, trying to contain his anger, “What was the last thing I texted to you Stiles?” he snarled. “The last thing? Stay safe and...”

“Don't do anything stupid.” Stiles finished for him, smiling faintly. “Damn it, would it kill you people to at least act like you're grateful when I save one of your lives.”

Alma's expression softened, she looked almost contrite. “You are brave, but foolhardy. However even though it was _totally unnecessary_ , I am grateful for the sentiment behind the gesture. Thank-you.” Stiles blushed. She smiled at him and got out of the car. “I must go and oversee setting up what we need for the ritual.” she said. “I will call you when we need to start.”

“You see sourwolf?” Stiles joked. “That's how its done. So the next time I hold your sorry ass up in a pool for a couple of hours I expect you to say thanks.”

Derek ignored him. “Can I?” he asked, reaching forward even as he said it to move Stiles plaid shirt.

Stiles inhaled sharply and nodded. Derek peeled the shirt off him tenderly. The metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils and he lifted the sleeve of Stiles t'shirt to get a better look at the wound. His fingers trailed lightly along the edge of the bandage, which was stained red with blood.

“Alma fixed me up.” Stiles said, his voice rough. “She subdued my Dad, well, Legion and then rushed straight over to me and told me off. It was almost like being there with you.”

Derek glanced over, sure enough the Sheriff's body was laid out on the back seat of the car. How Stiles and Alma managed to get him in there when Stiles had been shot he didn't want to know.

“We should get you to a hospital.” Derek said gruffly, black lines twisting up his arm as he started to take Stiles pain away. “Or at least take you to Melissa.”

“It's fine Derek.” Stiles replied soothingly. “It doesn't matter. Stop worrying.”

Derek looked away. “It's not fine.” He said, round the lump in his throat. “You could have died Stiles. Fuck. Do you know what that would...” He trailed off unwilling to finish the sentence.

Stiles looked at him hesitantly. Then gently he lifted his free, uninjured arm and ran his fingers gently through Derek's hair. Derek felt a whine rise in the back of his throat, but he tamped it down. Instead he closed his eyes, swallowing, breathing in Stiles comforting scent.

“I'm sorry Der.” Stiles said. “I didn't mean to get hurt.”

Derek opened his eyes and met Stiles steady gaze. “You never do.” he said. Stiles smiled softly.

“Look, I'm sorry I should have told you about...” Stiles began.

“Could we have some help?” Mariska called. “We need you to get the host bodies out of the car.”

On the ground outside the house the coven had marked out four circles, one in the center and then three surrounding it equidistant from each other. The three outer circles had lines marked out between them forming a triangle. Each outer circle also had a line leading inward to touch the central one.

“Okay” Alma said, “Each of the hosts needs to go in one of these outer circles.”

Derek and Chris between them managed to carry the unconscious bodies of Scott, Deaton and the Sheriff. They lay them down carefully, placing one in each of the outer circles.

“We must be careful that they are completely enclosed by the circle.” Mariska said, fussing round them.

Stiles sat down on the ruined porch of the house looking pensive, holding his injured arm at an awkward angle. His gaze flitting between the supine forms of his father, Scott and Deaton, his scent sour with anxiety.

Alma, Mariska and Alice began placing thick wax candles at carefully at strategic points, lighting them as they went, all the while chanting under the breath in an unfamiliar language.

Derek sunk down next to Stiles on the worn step of the porch. “They seem to know what they're doing.” he said, trying to be reassuring.

Stiles nodded mutely. Chris wandered over. “I notice you're the only one who managed to get your guy without being injured in the process!” Stiles said feigning cheerfulness.

Chris grimaced. “Not because he didn't try. Deaton threw a scalpel at me.” he admitted gesturing to a little nick on his ear, “I just managed to dodge it in time. It's buried in the wall at the clinic.” He grinned.

Stiles craned his neck to look, wincing as it pulled on his injured arm. “Oh yeah.” He mused. “Will you look at that. It looks like you cut yourself shaving."

Chris rolled his eyes. “I don't shave my ears Stiles. How's your arm?”

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. “It's fine, The bullet didn't hit anything important. Just made it impossible for me to drive.”

“Stiles!” Alma called. “We need you over here.”

Stiles grimaced standing up. “Duty calls.” he said, he put a hand on Derek's shoulder and squeezed it, his scent souring.

Derek glanced up at him. “Are you okay? Are you sure you don't need a doctor?"

Stiles smiled wanly, not quite meeting his gaze. “It's fine Der. I'm okay.” his hand slid from Derek's shoulder and he walked over to join the coven. His posture was tense, but that was probably due to the bullet hole in his arm.

“What do they need Stiles for?” Chris asked curiously.

Derek shrugged. “I don't know.” he looked over, Alma was gesturing for Stiles to stand in the centre circle.

Derek's heart dropped like a stone. He stood up abruptly.

“Hey!” He said rushing over. “What's going on?”

Stiles paused and looked back at him. “I need to stand in the circle for the ritual Der.”

Chris had followed him over. “What does this ritual entail exactly?” he asked.

Mariska hesitated, looking at Stiles. “You did not explain it to them?” she asked.

Stiles looked down guiltily.

“Explain what Stiles?” Derek ground out ominously. He could feel panic rising in his chest.

Stiles looked away. “It's a spark thing.” he said, “It's my choice though. I want to do it. I want to help.”

Derek looked angrily across at Mariska. “Explain.” he demanded. “Explain it _better than_ _he did_.” He jabbed a finger in Stiles direction.

She sighed. “You found the book at the library?” she began. “What did it say?”

Derek thought back. “You mean the bit about no one person being able to contain the demon?” He asked.

 "Yes,” she said, “But it also said that you must fight fire with fire.”

Alma cut in. “Think of this demon like a forest fire. Raging out of control. Consuming all that it comes across, feeding off them and sometimes leaving nothing but ash in the process.”

“So” Derek said angrily, “What does this have to with Stiles?”

“Stiles will be like a backfire. We will force Legion out of the hosts and into Stiles body. The Fallen would never willingly possess a strong spark anyway; they are not... compatible, but especially not one whose soul has already been tainted by a creature like a Nogitsune. With nothing to feed on Legion will burn himself out, he will be extinguished forever.”

“And what about Stiles.” Chris asked, “What effect will this have on him?”

Alma looked grave. “I'm not going to lie. It is a dangerous business, not without risk. In the best case scenario the process of destroying Legion will probably result in the dampening of Stiles spark. Permanently”

“And the worst case scenario?” Derek asked his eyes not leaving Stiles face.

Stiles refused to meet Derek's gaze. “I have to do this Derek.” He said brokenly. “It's Scott, it's my Dad. After everything that's happened, after all that I've... I can do this, I can do something good.” He trailed off, not wanting to continue. He didn't have to. Derek understood, he knew what it felt like to want to offer yourself up as penance, to want to atone for sins that you hadn't committed, even though you bore the weight of their consequences every day.

“There has to be another way.” Derek said raggedly, anger and panic warring in his chest. “Stiles,” he pleaded, “We have to find _another_ way. None of them would want this for you. You don't have to do _this._ ”

Mariska reached out to him a calming hand on his forearm. “To destroy the demon we need someone to be willing to risk sacrificing their Spark. Stiles is willing to take that risk. If we stop now we wouldn't find another Spark willing to do that, at least, not in time. Legion could revive, choose other hosts and disappear. Our opportunity would be lost. People _would_ die Derek.”

“We'll call the grove” Derek said, ignoring her and stepping toward Stiles. “They might know someone. They must have contacts. Someone who isn't... who I don't...” he trailed off.

Stiles looked at him uncomfortably. “There isn't time Derek..” he said, his voice breaking. “And it's my choice.”

“Don't... please don't.” Derek choked out.

Stiles shook his head. “I'm sorry.” he whispered and he stepped into the inner circle.

Mariska squeezed Derek's arm in consolation. “We are all here.” she whispered, “If we can keep him focused, if we can help him retain his humanity, he should be okay. Be brave Derek. Your Stiles is not to be underestimated I think.”

She turned and crossed over standing at the head of the circle containing Scott's prone form, facing inward to look at Stiles. Alice went and stood by Deaton and Alma by the Sheriff.

Stiles stood alone and vulnerable in the middle his fists clenched at it his sides, his gaze flicking between his father and Scott and then finally across to Derek.

The witches closed their eyes and stretched out their arms. They began to chant in unison. The same few words in a language Derek didn't know. At first, nothing seemed to be happening. Stiles just stood there, looking small and alone, but gradually Derek could feel the change in the air around them as it began to charge with magical energy. It was almost like the coven were drawing it in, pulling it from the very air around them. A breeze began to pick up around them, and beside him Chris shivered involuntarily.

“Look.” Chris whispered, pointing at the circles and lines on the ground. They were beginning to glow with a faint purplish light. The witches chanting began to grow a little louder, and the markings on the ground began tophosphoresce. Slowly they grew brighter until they almost seemed to throb with barely contained magical energy.

The circles containing each of Legion's hosts began to turn a darker and darker purple glowing angrily in the twilight of the preserve, and as this happened the prone forms of Deaton, Scott and the Sheriff began to move. At first Derek thought they waking up, but it soon became clear they were levitating into a standing position. There bodies were suspended awkwardly in the air, their heads lolling forward and their arms outstretched, like life size marionettes.

The witches continued their chant. The circles surrounding the three hosts were now an angry bruise of a color which intensified and began bleed down the lines toward the middle circle.

Derek had been so preoccupied that he'd momentarily stopped looking at Stiles. When he did his heart clenched in his chest. Stiles was shaking, his skin the pale yellowish grey of old computer equipment. He eyes were shut but as Derek looked they flew open, liquid dark against the pale of his skin. The circle surrounding Stiles was now a writhing, seething mess of energy, it seemed to pulse darkening into the same malevolent color as the rest of the markings.

Even as Derek watched, Stiles skin grew greyer, from a distance it almost seemed like his it was cracking, flaking like wood turned white hot in a furnace. Stiles shuddered, closing his eyes again and then sank slowly to his knees, his head bowed.

The breeze that had been present since the spells inception picked up suddenly, causing the candles to gutter. It was a dry, hot wind, unlike anything Derek had experienced in the preserve before. More reminiscent of standing near a blast furnace the usual cool summer zephyr you might expect at this time of year.

Still the witches chanted on, steadily growing louder. Derek strained his ears to try and pick out Stiles heartbeat from all the other ambient noise, tried to focus on it. It was almost impossible to do.

The air crackled around them and the wind burned oven hot.

Suddenly, without warning the host bodies slumped to the floor with a dull thud, as if their strings had been cut. The circles containing them began to dull, fading away, until they could barely be seen. The lines connecting them to each other and to the middle begin to dull as well. However, the circle surrounding Stiles continued to throb and pulsate angrily.

Derek stepped forward uncertainly.

“Has it finished?” Chris asked, giving voice to Derek's own thoughts.

“I don't know.” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on Stiles.

“If it is it feels anticlimatic.” Chris muttered. “I mean-”

Stiles threw his head back and screamed.

It was like no scream Derek had ever heard before. It seemed to be dragged right from Stiles core, and could be heard over the chanting, over the howling of the wind. At the sound of it, the ground beneath them began to shake and his old house creaked and moaned in protest.

Derek started forward his heart beating a frantic tattoo in his chest.

Chris stretched out an arm to still him but he shook it off, Stiles heartbeat stuttered in his chest and then began to slow, almost stopping.

Even as Derek moved toward Stiles the wind picked up as if in protest, a tumultuous gale. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alice's auburn hair whipping and rising above her head like a flickering flame. And still Stiles screamed.

Derek tried to step forward again but he might as well have been trying to move through a barrier of mountain ash.

 _It's not mountain ash though._ He told himself. _You can do this, you **have** to get to Stiles._

Raising his arms to his face to shield his eyes from the burning wind he forced himself to step forward toward the inner circle. He forced himself to drown out every other sensation except the slowing beat of Stiles heart and let it guide him.

He could feel the skin of his arms began to crack and peel as the wind scorched them, and still he carried on moving steadily forward until he reached the edge of the circle containing Stiles.

The ground was shaking, splitting apart beneath their feet and he heard the creak and snap of his former family home beginning to tear apart with the force of the wind and the tremors.

“Stiles!” he called, his voice lost on the wind. “Stiles!”

Stiles head flicked up and his eyes opened, his eyes completely black, his skin ashen and cracked as a log on a blazing fire. Along the cracks ran rivulets of flame as if he was burning up from the inside out.

“You think you can defeat me?” it was the voice of Legion, guttural and strange falling from Stiles lips. “I will consume him from the inside. I will dominate him. He is _nothing_ but kindling and I am the fire that will consume the world.”

Anger coursed through Derek's veins, igniting suddenly and blazing through him.

“Fuck you.” he ground out. “I'm not here to talk to you. I'm here for Stiles.” and with that he stepped over the line, and into the circle.

It burned.

Hotter then anything Derek could imagine and his skin began to peel and crack almost faster then he could heal. He bit back a scream of agony.

Instead he reached out to Stiles grasping his arms, even as his flesh began to blister in the heat.

“Stiles!” he called. “It's me. You can do this. You have to do this.”

The demon looked at him smirking insolently. “He's not here wolf. He's not here and your blood will boil in your veins.”

“Stiles!” Derek called again, his voice hoarse and dry. “I know you're in there.” he moved forward. “You have to fight. You have to hold on to who you are. He's afraid of you Stiles. He knows you can beat him.”

A strange look flickered across Stiles face.

“You have to fight. For your Dad, for Scott, for me. We need you Stiles.”

Stiles head jerked as if he'd been shocked and in that moment Derek could tell that Stiles, his Stiles was back in control, however briefly.

“I can't do it. I wanted to.” Stiles cried out in his own voice. “Derek, I'm sorry, it's too strong. I-” he let out an abortive cry of pain. “I can't.” he sobbed.

“You can.” Derek said reaching out painfully to run his fingers down the ashen lines of Stiles cheek. “You can, I'll help you.” he leaned forward, cradling Stiles face in his hands. “We'll do this together. I promise.”

Without conscious thought he leaned forward and kissed him. A dry press of mouths, hot and insistent, and even over the roar of the wind he could hear Stiles heart rate pick up in his chest. It wasn't what he thought their first kiss would be like, on those rare occasions when he'd allowed himself to imagine it. It wasn't shy or urgent, fierce or romantic. It was heartfelt though and achingly necessary. Even like this, cracked and burned, touching Stiles felt right, and for the first time since his family died he felt whole, he felt at peace.

Stiles drew back from him reluctantly. “You fucker.” he said in a brittle voice. “Why would you wait until _now_ to do that? Look at the fucking state of us!” a single tear clung to his eyelashes and then dropped on his cheek. There was a hiss and steam rose up.

Derek tried to smile, his face too raw and blistered to assume the expression. “I never... had great... timing.” Derek bit out falling to his knees, the pain overwhelming him. “Sorry I-” he slumped over, head on his chest, fists on the ground, unable to finish the sentence. His ability to heal himself finally outstripped by the sheer intensity of the heat. His skin felt abraded and raw, his clothes stuck to him painfully and his breath rattled in his chest. This was it... he couldn't go on.

“Derek? What are you-? Don't you do this to me you complete fucking asshole!” Stiles raged, “Don't you make out with me and then do this. There is no _fucking_ way I am letting this happen. You hear me you _bastard_. You are not allowed to kiss me and then die... do you hear me?”

Derek couldn't respond, his voice died in his throat.

“This isn't how it ends for us.” Stiles muttered. “This _won't_ be how this ends. DO YOU HEAR ME? I WON'T LET YOU WIN.” Stiles shouted and the world imploded.

There was a scream, something ancient and guttural, tortured and evil. It forced it's way out of Stiles mouth, shattering the windows of the nearby vehicles. The ground shuddered violently and the wind howled in blind fury. The remains of the old Hale property exploded outward showering everywhere in splinters of wood and glass, and with a sickening crack like thunder one of the trees split in two like it had been struck by lightening. The cry reached an ear-splitting crescendo and then suddenly there was silence.

The wind dropped, the tremors ceased. The burning heat subsided.

Stiles sagged to his knees. “Derek?” he ground out.

Derek tried to look up hissing in pain as he did so.

Stiles was looking at him, tired, weak, pale, but alive.

“You did it.” Derek rasped. “I knew you could.”

“Stupid Sourwolf.” Stiles said fondly, his voice scratchy and frail. “ _We_ did it. I just...”He winced in pain. “I-” he crumpled, falling forward, unconscious.

Derek winced as he scrambled over. “Stiles?” He said frantically. “Are you alright?” Now the burning heat had gone, his healing was slowly beginning to kick in. He pushed past the pain and gathered Stiles into his arm. “Help!” He called. “HELP!” he buried his nose in the crook of Stiles neck, inhaling greedy lungfuls of his scent. He could still hear a thready heartbeat, still just about make out shallow intakes of breath.

 _Please be okay Stiles. Please. Please be okay._ He chanted in his head.

Just within earshot he could hear the sound of voices calling, panicked and frantic. He couldn't seem to focus on them though. He clung to Stiles unconscious body, unable to let go. Willing him to be okay.

A shadow fell over them, an arm reached out to touch Stiles, and Derek snarled, shifting without control and curling his body protectively round Stiles own.

Mariska fell back.

“Help him.” Derek said, his voice thick and frantic around his fangs.

“We want to help him Derek, but you have to let him go. We can't help him if you don't let go of him.” she said.

 

o0o

 

Mariska drove him back to his loft. He wanted to go with Stiles and the others to the hospital, but she insisted that he go home and get some proper rest.

“Stiles will be fine Derek!” she chided him. “He is in good hands, you will be surprised how quickly he recovers. You nearly burned alive, you need to rest. You will be no good to him if you do not."

Chris and the others agreed with her and Derek was too depleted to argue.

He refused her offer to come in and nurse him though, instead he limped up the stairs to his apartment and once safely inside, carefully peeled off what remained of his clothes and ran himself a bath.

His skin was abraded. Raw. Scorched in places. He looked in the mirror and could barely recognize himself.

It was healing though, or beginning to, already his arms didn't look as blistered as they had in the initial aftermath of the ritual.

Once his bath had been run, he sank into it. Wincing in pain as the water touched raw flesh. The longer he lay in it though, the easier it became, he didn't keep track of how long he lay there. Soaking, healing, drifting gently in and out of consciousness, to weak and exhausted to do much else.

Finally though the tiredness was too much, and he climbed out and patted himself dry very gently. Then gratefully he slipped into his bed.

He didn't dream.

 

o0o

 

He didn't wake up until the next morning and then it was only because someone was pounding on the door.

He stumbled out of bed, rushing to open it, too disorientated to try and work out who it was.

As he pulled the door open Kira flew at him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him with such force that he staggered backwards.

“Thank-you!” she whispered. “Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you.”

Derek froze, his brain still coming back on line after hours of sleep. He petted her hair awkwardly and she clung to him more tightly.

She pulled back eventually her eyes filled with tears. “Oh God. Look at you!” She exclaimed. “They said it was bad, but I hadn't realized...”

Derek rubbed a hand across his face self-consciously. He disentangled himself from Kira and went to look in a mirror.

He looked like he had the worlds most severe case of sunburn, this skin of his face and arms red and peeling.

“It's looking a lot better then yesterday.” he muttered.

Kira looked faintly horrified. “Really?” She said skeptically. “Because that looks gross...” she blushed. “I mean... nevermind. You look... fine. Really, really... okay, even.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “How is everyone?” he asked. _How is Stiles?_ He thought. _  
_

“Uh... good, mostly, I think. I saw them this morning at the hospital, but when I heard what you did and how badly hurt you were, I thought someone should come and check on you. Make sure you're okay. Chris said the ritual wouldn't have worked if it wasn't for you."

Derek rubbed a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “I... it wasn't like that...”

“Don't do that!”Kira said disapprovingly. “You did something really important. Well... you and Stiles did, we mustn't forget him obviously. I can't believe this whole thing happened and most of the pack didn't even realize it! I can't believe _Scott_ was possessed all this time. I feel guilty I didn't realize to be honest, I mean...”

“How is Stiles?” Derek asked, interrupting Kira's stream of consciousness.

“Half awake, groggy, dosed up on pain killers. He asked for you.” She said, shooting him a sly look. “Well sort of anyway, it was more a five minute ramble about how adorable your eyebrows are. It was quite poetic actually, he called them mystical, furry caterpillars of love. I think it was probably the painkillers talking, but still, the thought was nice. Are you going to go see him?”

Derek felt folded his arms defensively and tried to ignore the fact that his ears were burning red with embarrassment. He shrugged. “Probably.”

“Probably?” she squeaked. “You _have_ to! You like saved each others lives with the power of lo-”

“Fine. Fine. I'm going to go and see him.” Derek said hurriedly, his ears now feeling like they were going to burst into flames. “Just. Not yet. I still need to recover.” Kira's face crumpled in concern.

 “Of course!” she said, “I understand. Here why don't you sit down. I'm going to make you some breakfast and a cup of coffee. If that's okay.” She said anxiously.

Derek nodded absently he limped wearily across the loft and sat down heavily on his couch, wincing in pain. He wanted to see Stiles. Wanted it so much it was a physical ache in his chest. He wanted it to be private though, personal, not on display for the whole pack to coo over. They needed to talk. They needed to discuss this... whatever it was between them, now that the threat of Legion wasn't hanging over them like the Sword of Damocles.

It was nice though, having Kira here, she chattered on as she fixed him breakfast, filling the silence, soothing the feverish thoughts in his head and fussing over him to make sure he was comfortable. He felt... part of something... part of a family, part of a pack. A functioning one that he could see himself staying with. He felt safe. Without really thinking about it he lay down on the couch and closed his eyes letting her gentle conversation wash over him. Within minutes he was asleep.

 

o0o

 

By the time he finally woke it was late evening. Kira had gone, although her scent still lingered faintly. She had covered him with a blanket and left a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast on the coffee table. They were cold now but he warmed them in the microwave and wolfed them down.

Then he had a shower and was pleased to see, when he looked in the mirror that his skin was almost completely healed. Without really giving it any thought, he got dressed, jumped in his car and headed out to the hospital.

Melissa McCall saw him as he walked into the emergency room, she dropped the charts and clipboards she was holding, and flew over to greet him. He'd barely managed to say a word before she'd enveloped him in a giant bear hug. It felt like she was trying to crush his rib cage. Derek stood there uncertainly before returning it, patting her stiffly on the back. As she relinquished her hold, he realized that she was actually crying.

“What's wrong?!” he said in alarm. “Did something happen to Stiles?”

“No.” she said part sob, part laugh. “I just. I'm really grateful, that Scott is okay, that Stiles is fine, John and Deaton too. We owe you and Stiles a lot.”

Derek could feel his cheeks burning. “You don't owe me anything.” He said stiltedly. “I didn't do anything special."

“Well I recently met three _witches_ who told me otherwise.” Melissa said firmly. “They were adamant that Stiles was struggling until you forced your way through God knows what kind of hell and brought him to his senses so that he could destroy an ancient demon that was possessing my son. Sound familiar?”

Derek sighed. “It wasn't like that.” he said gruffly. “They're exaggerating.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well Chris Argent seemed to agree with them, and I think we can both know that _he_ isn't prone to hyperbole.”

Derek looked away, feeling uncomfortable. “Is Stiles here?” he asked, anxious to change the subject.

Melissa pursed her lips and looked at him thoughtfully. “Stiles was discharged.” she said eventually. “He's gone home.”

Derek nodded. “Okay. Thanks. I should... probably... go then.” he gestured with his thumb to the door.

Melissa caught his arm as he tried to leave. “You're coming round to dinner Derek. No!” she said as she saw his expression sour. “I'm not going to let you get out of this. You helped save my sons life. You're family. Pack. We need to start acting like it. Need to work out what that really means.” Derek's face softened at her words.

“Okay,” he said, “I'd like that I think.”

She beamed at him. “Good.” she said. “Now go find Stiles before he tries to break out of his house to come and find you. He's not stopped asking for you all day.”

 

o0o

 

John opened the door. He looked pale but otherwise okay.

“Derek.” he said. “I take it you're here to see my son.”

“Yes sir.” Derek replied, feeling unaccountably nervous under the Sheriffs knowing gaze.

“You'd better come in then.” The Sheriff said moving to the side. “He's upstairs in his bedroom. Awake as far as I know.”

“Thank-you.” Derek said gratefully.

 “I think it's me who should be thanking you isn't it?” the Sheriff said drily. “From what I understand anyway.”

“No- I mean, its fine. I'm just... glad you're okay.”

The Sheriff shot him a wry smile. “You're as bad at accepting thanks as I am at giving it.” he said. “But I am grateful. I'm still struggling to get my head round all this, but thanks, for all you've done.”

Derek nodded awkwardly. “I should probably just...” he said gesturing with his thumb to the stairs.

The Sheriff smirked. “Yeah. You probably should. You should probably make sure that his bedroom door is left open as well.”

Derek could feel the blush working it's way up his body to the roots of his hair.

“I'm not... we're not... it's not like that.”

“Really son?” the Sheriff replied. “You two aren't fooling anyone any more.”

“Door open.” Derek mumbled in mortification. “Got it.” he turned on his heel, trying his best not to look like he was running away.

The door to Stiles room was shut, from inside he could hear music blaring out, the faint click of computer keys and the comforting trip of Stiles heartbeat. Relief surged in his chest.

He knocked tentatively on the door.

“S'open. Come in.” Stiles called out distractedly.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting Stiles to look like. During the ritual he had looked almost inhuman. Now sitting on his bed in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt he was pale, gaunt, but so wonderfully alive. He had his lap top on his knees, tapping away furiously at the keys. Derek's heart soared at the sight of him.

“Just leave the coffee on the bedside table Dad. I'll get to it in a minute.” Stiles said, not looking up.

Derek felt his face break into a smile in spite of himself. Part of him just wanted to stand here for the rest of the evening and just look, drink in the sight of him whole and safe.

“Seriously Dad it'll go cold if...” Stiles looked up distractedly. “Fuck me!” He said flailing wildly and falling out of the bed.

Derek rushed forward to help him up, huffing in exasperation. “For God's sake Stiles.” he said pulling him up by his arm.

“You're here?” Stiles said disbelievingly, staring at him like he'd seen a ghost.

Derek swallowed nervously, suddenly unsure of himself. He nodded abruptly. He'd spent so long wanting to see Stiles, that he hadn't actually considered whether or not he'd be welcome. “If that's not okay, I can go.” He said.

“NO! No. I just-” Stiles spat out with a hysterical little laugh. He grabbed hold of Derek's wrist. “I've spent the last twenty four hours imagining what I wanted to say to you, thinking about how this would go. Now you're actually here and I...” he swallowed, “Nothing I want to say seems enough.”

Derek stared, drinking in his soft, disheveled hair and earnest brown eyes, it felt like his heart had stopped in his chest. “I would have come over sooner.” he said, “I wanted to... I was just...”

“Asleep?” Stiles said with a soft smile. “Yeah. Kira told me. She said you looked all cute snuggled up on the couch.”

Derek harrumphed. “Kira says a lot of things.” he groused. “I hear you think my eyebrows are... what was the phrase? Mystical caterpillars of-”

“Okay!” Stiles said, blushing prettily. “Enough about Kira. You can't quote that shit to me, I was under the influence of drugs Derek. Powerful, powerful drugs, I claim diminished responsibility."

Derek's smile faded into a frown. “You're okay now though? I mean they released you from hospital so...”

Stiles shrugged indifferently and he sat down on his bed, looking weary. “They didn't really know what was wrong. I mean why would they? Anyway, it wasn't like I could tell them. They gave me painkillers, ran some tests, put me on a drip to rehydrate me. That was all I need anyway. When I felt well enough I discharged myself. There was nothing they could do for me there and I'd rather be at home. God knows my Dad can't afford me to be in hospital again.”

“What about your spark?” Derek asked curiously, moving to sit next to Stiles on the bed.

Stiles shrugged, “I'm just a regular old human now. At least as far as anyone can tell. Apparently it's not unheard of for a spark to reignite, even after something like this. But for now? No more magic.”

Silence fell between them, Stiles kept glancing across at him, gnawing his bottom lip anxiously, he obviously wanted to talk but wasn't sure how to start. “So... about what happened... you know during the ritual thing...” he began. “Are we going to talk about that at all? I mean are we,” he gulped, “together now? Because I would be totally up for that dude, but I know you have issues about my age and also not a great relationship history and I don't want to put you under any pressure, I don't want to push you at all. But in the interests of full disclosure, you should know I'm... kinda in love with you.”

Derek let his knee bump up against Stiles. It was comforting to have him this close. There was so much he needed to say, so much Stiles deserved to hear. Not least of which... “I love you too.” he said softly, refusing to look up. He could feel every muscle in Stiles body coil, vibrating with tension. “I want to be together, I want us to be... an us, but we would need to take it slowly.” he chanced a glance up at Stiles, “I don't want to ruin this by doing too much too quickly. So if that's not what you want or if you don't feel you can wait, then I'll understand. I just... you should know that.”

Stiles looked at him fondly and reached over to squeeze his hand, “You're such a dumbass,” he said, his voice raw with affection. “Don't you know yet? Haven't you worked it out? Literally everyone else has, but if you don't know then let me make it clear.” he leaned in, resting his forehead against Derek's, his breath a whisper against Derek's mouth. “Derek Hale, I would wait for you _forever._ ”

He grinned, painfully bright and beautiful and Derek's heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Before he could check himself he leaned forward, closing the gap between them, sealing their lips together in a kiss.

It was everything he hoped it would be and nothing like he imagined it, soft pressure, a gentle scrape of stubble and the overwhelming scent of Stiles. He could feel Stiles smiling into the kiss and he knew he was doing the same.

This was it, this was his new beginning, his fresh start. This was home.

 

 

o0o

 

 

 

 **So that's it! The end! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I've enjoyed writing it. When I initially set out to do this, my challenge to myself was to write something that might plausibly be an episode or two of Teen Wolf told from the perpsective of Stiles and Derek. Something that chronicled them becoming a couple.**  
  
**I'm not sure if I've succeeded but I've certainly had a ball trying! I was tempted to write a little coda to this maybe do set something five or ten years in the future, showing them settled and happy, but in the end I decided to leave it. However if you want to know what I envisage in their future I suggest you listen to[Grow Old With Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhCB56_kFYM) by Tom Odell, his lyrics say it far better then I ever could.**  
  
**Just because I'm sure some people may be interested, here in no particular order are songs that have inspired this fic.**  
  
[Two Men In Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QImH6snSN-g) - The Irrepressibles (So many Sterek feels for me.)

**[Retrograde](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6p6PcFFUm5I) - James Blake (Pretty much inspired Derek's break down in the motel and the flash backs to Kate Argent.)**

**[Another Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vt_NAOOkf-E) - Tom Odell (Derek rejecting Stiles, because he believes he's too broken to be in a relationship)**  
  
**[Clarity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxxstCcJlsc) - Zedd (ft Foxes) Lyrics pretty much started the whole thing. And obviously the titles of both the fics and the series are taken from this song.**

 **Anyway! If you liked it then please leave a comment or kudos. I started writing Clarity back in February and now finally in September I've finishe!** **I would love to hear what you think! If you got this far then thank-you for reading. It means so much to get feedback and I promise I will always try and respond! :-)**

 

 


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